


What Makes Us Mighty

by AthenaAstrea



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: Marriage of Convenience, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, special hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-16 10:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 165,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5825425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaAstrea/pseuds/AthenaAstrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal, Jayne, and River try to keep Serenity in the sky while searching for the rest of their crew. River's increasingly unpredictable behavior creates problems and her unorthodox solution may be the key to their salvation...or  lead them all straight to a very special hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Serenity in Camelot

**Author's Note:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

“She’s gettin’ worse,” Jayne said.

“I know,” Mal replied without taking his eyes off the schematics in front of him.

It was a lost cause and he knew it. He had never been able to understand the inner workings of _Serenity_ , not like little Kaylee. It hurt, just a little, that his boat could talk to his mechanic in ways he was too stupid to understand, but he’d learned to live with it. Except now he _couldn’t_ live with it, because his mechanic wasn’t here. Nor was his first mate. Or his doctor. No, they had been caught in the middle of a civil uprising on a backwater planet and now they were in an Alliance internment camp on some Godforsaken moon. And the hell of it was, he didn’t even know which moon yet, because he couldn’t keep his gorram ship in the sky half the time, never mind pay the kinds of bribes that needed to be paid for information like that.

Not to mention finance a rescue operation.

The simple truth was, he was having trouble simply keeping him, Jayne, and River fed and _Serenity_ fueled, and that had been before they’d run out of River’s meds. River wasn’t normal, never would be, but she’d been pretty damn lucid since Miranda, despite her penchant for figurative language. The doc had found a drug cocktail that helped regulate her some, keep her here and now and verbal, but now, without Simon, they were in a fix. She was, as Jayne had said, getting worse, slipping back into her own fractured world a little more each day, and it was killing him to watch it.

“They’re gonna lock her up,” Jayne said. “You know that, don’t you?”

“She ain’t wanted anymore, Jayne,” Mal said. “We was in that jail on Greenleaf overnight, back before…” he cleared his throat, having a hard time even saying the name of the planet where half his crew had been arrested and deported before he even knew what was going on. “Before D’Aria. Plenty of time to wave, but no feds. Operative kept his word, they’re not lookin’ anymore.”

“That’s not what I’m talkin’ about, Mal,” Jayne said. “Did you see those looks we was gettin’ on Boros? They was ready to call for the people with the straightjackets to come haul her off. If they’d o’ done that, what were we gonna say? ‘You can’t, us two suspicious lookin’ _húndàns **[1]**_ need her for our shady dealin’s?’ We’d o’ been took for slavers or worse.”

“Seems she may have to stay on the ship ‘til she’s a mite more stable,” Mal said without conviction, hoping maybe Jayne would leave it alone. He did not want to deal with this right now.

“Can’t do that and you know it,” Jayne said.

Mal did know it. Truth was, even barking mad, River’s abilities were the only advantage they had, what with their skeleton crew, ailing ship, and contacts who just wouldn’t quit trying to shoot him. They couldn’t afford not to use her, but Jayne was right, too many more displays like the one at the bar on Boros and they’d be hauling her off to a psych ward and throwing him and Jayne in a lockdown. Mal sighed.

“Ship couldn’t hold her anyways, she had a mind to leave” he admitted. “No lock in the ‘verse is enough to stop our little genius.”

“What’re we gonna do?” Jayne asked.

Mal rubbed his hands over his face. He had no rutting idea what they were going to do and that was the honest truth.

“Achilles must claim Iphigenia.”

Both men turned. River stood in the doorway to the bridge, pale as a ghost, her hair a wild tangle, staring over their heads at something only she could see.

“Course change set, little Albatross?” Mal asked.

“Turning, turning, turning,” she said, stepping forward, bare feet pointed. “Must spot, pirouette without falling down.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mal said. “What’s this about Achilles and Iphigenia?”

He knew she had a plan, the trick was figuring out a way for her to tell him what it was. Since Miranda, it had become clear that her genius brain was every bit as genius as her brother had said, and still working mighty fine despite the pretty hefty dings the Alliance had put in it. But it had been hard for her to communicate everything she thought and felt even on her best days and now it was getting damn near impossible. Especially since he’d never heard of half the obscure references she used when her own thoughts got tangled up too bad to get her point across.

“Iphigenia went to Aulis trusting her father to keep her safe” River said, walking past Jayne seemingly without seeing him, eyes still fixed on a point somewhere near the tea canisters. “Didn’t know her father had tricked her. Wanted to sacrifice her to Aphrodite, let the ships sail to find Helen. Real girl sacrificed for the idea of a perfect woman.”

“Crazy,” Jayne said, “I know you can’t make sense right now, but you gotta try a little ruttin’ harder than that, you want a couple a dumbasses like us to catch your drift.”

“It pains me to admit it, but Jayne is right,” Mal said. “Don’t happen often, I know, but when it does, it tends to be a very special occasion. Warrants some consideration.”

River smiled slightly, like he’d hoped she would, and and for a moment her eyes seemed to focus, just a little. His little reader was still in there somewhere. He just had to get his doctor back and get her out.

“Iphigenia could not protest,” she said. “Her father promised to sacrifice her and his army demanded it. No words of hers could save her and her father could not take it back.”

“Oh, I do not like the sound a’ that,” Mal said. “You tellin’ me you’re gonna die on me, little Albatross?”

She shook her head vigorously, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“Sacrificed,” she said, “Sacrificed for the vision of a perfect woman.”

“Sacrificed by who?” Mal said, trying to find something concrete to hang onto.

“The Akhians,” River whispered, “Smug in their self-righteousness, think because there’s a handful of them being dumb together, that makes them right, no idea there’s a whole ‘verse out there thinking different.”

Her description struck a chord somewhere in his brain, something he’d once said about petty planetside officials who had never travelled the black and couldn’t understand how big the ‘verse was and how arrogant they were for thinking they could control it.

“You’re talkin’ about the authorities planetside?” Mal asked.  

River looked up at him and smiled.

“Top of the class,” she said, sounding eerily like Kaylee for a second, then her voice went back to being hers again. “See a real girl, but she is not perfect, want to cast her aside for an imaginary woman she can never be.” Her voice hardened. “Not their business,” she said, “Helen would not be theirs, even if she was real, so what do they care if Iphigenia is not Helen?”

“Sounds mighty officious to me,” Mal agreed. “Seems Iphigenia is a whole lot shinier than some prairie harpy as don’t exist. So what do we do?”

“Agamemnon lured his daughter to Aulis under false pretenses,” River said. “Told her mother she was to marry Achilles, the greatest of the Akhians.” She smiled dreamily. “Achilles liked her. Said she would have made a worthy wife.” She struggled to focus again. “Achilles can stop the sacrifice,” she said.

“How?” Mal asked.

“Make the lie the truth,” River said.

“Still not gettin’ you here, little one,” Mal said.

“Agamemnon does not have the power to stop the sacrifice,” River said, “Nor does Clytemnestra. Iphigenia speaks for herself and is ignored. Achilles speaks, but does not have the right. Must claim the right before the Akhians will listen.”

“And how does he do that?” Mal asked.

“Fulfil false promise,” she said. “Go to the altar, but not to spill blood.”

“ _Shèng de jiāopèi kōngjiān jīng_ ”[2] Mal swore. “You sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?”

“Mal?” Jayne asked, clearly very lost.

Mal looked at Jayne with something akin to horror.

“She’s sayin’ one of us should marry her,” he said.

He fully expected Jayne to get all loud and belligerent, saying no way was he marrying the _fēng le **[3]**_ girl. He depended on Jayne Cobb for that kind of vociferous protest against anything that threatened his self-interest or made him in any way uncomfortable. But Jayne was frowning, looking for all the world like he was thinking.

Well, that was downright creepifying. Jayne Cobb thinking.

“Lost,” River murmured, looking at Jayne with unfocused eyes. “Crying, darkness, blood, curled up in a ball. Aunt Nancy wanted to bring her home, take care of her, but he refused. Wanted the shiny white coats to take her away, get the other woman back.”

“Get outa my head, Moonbrain,” Jayne snarled.

“What’s she talkin’ about, Jayne?” Mal asked.

“Cousin o’ mine,” Jayne answered, still glaring at the girl. “Went _fēng le_ after she lost her second baby. My aunt said it were natural after a miscarriage, would pass in time, but her husband were some fancy city type, wanted her all fixed up yesterday. Sent her off to some hospital and there weren’t nothin’ Aunt Nancy could do.”

“Opened her veins, let the light in,” River said, sounding like she was going to cry. “Cold light, white light in a white room. Forgot what the sun felt like. Better to go with the tiny angel than stay in a cold world.”

“Hey, hey,” Mal said, standing up and going over to the girl. “Stop that, darlin’.”

He put an awkward arm around her slender shoulders and led her over to the table, sitting her down in the chair he’d been occupying.

“Why don’t you take a look at these here schematics, see what’s makin’ _Serenity’s_ engine sound like a box o’ tin pans?” he said. “Take your mind off cold lights and tiny angels.”

“She is right, Mal,” Jayne said as River began studying the schematics. “Comes to a choice about whether she gets locked up, family’s got pull and a husband’s got the most.”

“ _Tā mā de wǒ de zǔxiān_ ,”[4] Mal said. “You sayin’ you think we should go along with this _fǔ huài de **[5]** _ plan of hers?”

The big merc shrugged.

“Let’s face it, Mal, you and I ain’t exactly the brains of this here operation,” he asked. “Even crazy as a wombat, she can think circles ‘round us. She says this is what we should do, it’s probably what we should do.”

Mal’s mouth dropped open.

“I’m dreamin’,” he said weakly. “This is a really, _really_ bad dream.”

“Whatsa matter, Mal?” Jayne said. “All in all, this is one of our tamer es-ca-paydes. It ain’t like we gotta kill nobody and the odds of you gettin’ shot are lower’n...well, lower’n they ever get, in the normal run of things.”

“She’s a kid, Jayne,” Mal snapped. “And right now, she’s a crazy kid. She is not in the right mind to be makin’ this kind o’ decision.”

River cocked her head.

“ _Non compos mentis_ ,” she said, seemingly agreeing. “Can’t give legal consent. Not allowed in the Core. Evil stepmother protects folk from themselves.” She looked straight at Mal. “On the rim now,” she said. “Not relevant.”

“Don’t make it right, darlin’,” Mal said.

She grinned at him.

“You— I— that’s a dumb planet,” she said, sounding like him now. Mal vaguely remembered saying something like that to YoSaffBridge before she kissed him unconscious and tried to steal his ship.

“Just ‘cause she’s a crazy kid don’t mean she deserves t’ be locked up in a ruttin’ hospital,” Jayne said. “You know what they did t’ her Mal. That was me, I’d rather slit my throat than go back where people was gonna wanna be pokin’ at my brain.”

River began to get agitated.

“Two by two, hands of blue,” she whimpered. “Poke needles in my eyes, ask me what I see. _Some of our best work is done while they’re asleep_ — _The neural stripping_ does _tend to fragment their own reality matrix— Scary monsters._ ”

Mal shot Jayne a dirty look.

“Really?” he said. “You had to go say the exact thing guaranteed to make our resident crazy person even _more_ crazy?”

Mal rubbed his hands gently up and down River’s arms. He’d found that it helped, when she got worked up, to touch her, to hold her hands or rub her arms or stroke her hair, like she was a skittish horse he was trying to calm down. It made sense, he supposed. People were mammals, after all, so what worked for a spooked horse should work for a spooked girl.

“Hey, ain’t me that’s lettin’ overdeveloped scruples stand in the way of doin’ what’s needful,” Jayne said.

She was calming down now, her focus turning to the schematics. Mal continued to rub her arms as he glared at Jayne.

“Jayne, since when do you care what happens to River?” he demanded. “Seem to remember an incident that indicated pretty much the opposite. An incident that ended with an airlock”

“I care since she’s been keepin’ me from gettin’ et by Reavers or shot by our backstabbing _gǒu shǐ chī_ contacts, that’s when,” Jayne said, his voice rising. “You remember what you said when you was fixin’ t’ suck me outa that airlock?”

Mal surely did. His words ran through his head, but they came out of River’s mouth.

“ _You turn on any o’ my crew, you turn on me,_ ” she growled, voice deep and strident.

Mal jumped. No matter how often it happened, it was all kinds of startling when she did stuff like that.

“Didn’t make no kind o’ sense t’ me then,” Jayne said. “Way I saw it, she was just a _fēng le_ kid, like t’ kill us all in our sleep, not worth anything but th’ coin they were offering for her. Still didn’t get it when you brought her back on board after that _yǔ wūshuǐ jí nèizàng_ [6] on Beaumond and I sure as _hell_ didn’t get it when we made a suicide run through Reaver space on her say-so. But then those blast doors opened and she was standin’ there covered in blood with all those Reavers dead around her, and I figured it out.”

“If you think I helped her because I knew that someday she would kill a shipful of Reavers to save me and mine, I think you missed the moral of that little lesson, Jayne,” Mal said, his voice hard.

“No Mal, that’s the whole gorram point,” Jayne said. “You had no way o’ knowin’ you’d get anything out o’ helpin’ her, but because you did, she was willin’ t’ die a right grisly death for us.”

“Conjure her brother was on her mind too,” Mal pointed out.

“You look after me, Simon,” River said, tracing a conduit on the schematics, “You always look after me. My turn.”

“Damn right,” Jayne said, apparently unphased, although she had to have picked that up out of his mind. “He looked after her, you looked after her, and then she looked after all of us because she thought it was her turn. Well, now Zoe, Kaylee, and the Doc are in trouble and she’s goin’ moonbrained again, it looks like it’s _my_ turn.”

Mal blinked. It sounded as if Jayne Cobb had actually _learned_ something from his time aboard _Serenity_. And if that wasn’t a terrifying thought, he didn’t know what was.

“Daddy is disturbed,” River said to Jayne. “Child is picking up bad habits from the parent, learning to be stupid, to fight for a losing cause because it’s the right thing to do. ”

“You mean Mal’s worried I’m learnin’ to be like him?” Jayne asked.

“Very noble path, but not conducive to good health,” River said. “Parent wants child to survive. Genetic imperative.”

“Hey,” Mal said, disturbed by River’s choice of metaphor. “Ain’t no genetics of mine attached to Jayne Cobb, you hear me, Albatross?”

“Well, if he wants me bein’ a selfish _húndàn_ , he can try this on fer size,” Jayne said. “We’re already down more’n half our crew and of the three of us, she’s the one as keeps our sorry asses alive and in th’ sky. We have t’ leave her on the ship, we may as well just give up and go on the drift, ‘cause we’re done.”

He was right. Malcolm Reynolds and Jayne Cobb could not run _Serenity_ alone, never mind get the sort of paying work to keep her in the air. River was the one who could stretch the fuel, jury rig the engine, and shoot the bad guys with her eyes closed, even if she couldn’t explain what she was doing. Without her to fill in for their missing crew members, _Serenity_ would have been grounded in the first week.

Damnit. When had Jayne Cobb gotten smart?

“Children grow up so fast,” River murmured. Then she laid one long finger over a particular part of the diagram in front of her. “This is where _Serenity_ hurts,” she said.

Mal looked where River was pointing, but it made no sense to him. He couldn’t even really tell what exactly it was she was pointing at.

“Can you find this part, I get you to a yard?” he asked.

She gave him the _look_. The ‘you absolute and utter boob’ look, the look she gave Simon when he’d swallowed both feet so far he was chewing on his own kneecaps. Mal sighed heavily. Jayne was right, they couldn’t even buy new parts without River. No way in hell they could keep her locked in the ship, no matter how damaging to everyone’s calm she was when she was out and about.

“Okay,” he said, “Looks like we got a stop to make when we hit dirt. How long ‘til we get to Oberon?”

“14 hours, 12 minutes, 16 seconds,” River said. “Approximately.”

 

***

 

“Well, that went well,” Mal muttered, looking dourly at the bag of parts that had almost gotten them...he didn’t even know what. He just knew that the owner of the junkyard thought that River was a victim of unspeakable atrocities, Jayne was a perverted lowlife, and Mal was too stupid to live. It was just dumb luck— well, actually, dumb brute intimidation— that had gotten them on their way before she decided what to do about it.

“You ain’t much of a liar,” Jayne said. “Never seen anything quite that pathetic.”

“Oh, and your show of honesty was _so_ much better,” Mal snapped.

“Got us outa there, didn’t it?” Jayne said. “ _With_ a discount.”

“72.4% chance that a call to the authorities would have happened before our departure on the Captain’s former trajectory,” River said, her voice flat. “After Jayne’s course change, likelihood increased to 94.9%, but time interval also increased. We will be .568 miles away before she works up the nerve to call her sister.”

Both men looked at River with weary anticipation, waiting for the punchline.

“Ariana Yacobo Hanson, Sheriff’s Deputy,” River supplied obligingly.

Local sheriff’s department. Just perfect.

Mal had been trying to make a point. He had insisted that they could conduct their business at the scrapyard and be on their way without a fuss, intent on proving the three of them could keep on just fine without resorting to River’s Iphigenia scheme. But then, just when they’d gotten everything they needed and were getting down to the haggling, River had touched something— the hood of beat-up federal skimmer, Mal was pretty sure— and had flipped out. She’d started whimpering about smelling fear and feeling the bite of metal and choking on the seed of the protector and Mal and Jayne had stood there wishing this stupid rock would just open and swallow them up.

Mal had tried to smooth it over, smiling his most winsome smile and commenting on the whimsicality of his pilot, but the owner had not bought it. She started asking pointed questions about who they were and who River was and what she was talking about, all of which made it clear that she thought River was describing her _own_ experiences at the hands of the two men with her. Mal had lost his head then and had begun babbling about how she was Jayne’s kid sister and their ma had sent her to them to avoid some unpleasantness at home and that, honest to God, she’d been fine this morning, he didn’t know what had gotten into her. The owner’s look had gotten positively murderous and Jayne had chosen that moment to step in.

He had told the woman, with a menacing growl in his voice, that she had better ignore the girl and sell them the parts or he was going to get tetchy real fast. Since he already looked pretty tetchy, the threat seemed a little tardy, but the woman had taken in the gun strapped to his leg and the muscle jumping in his jaw and agreed to a ridiculously low price just to get them the hell off her lot.

And, if River was to be believed, work up the nerve to call her sister at the sheriff’s office.

“You just had to touch the piece a junk with _those_ kinda memories on it, didn’t you little Albatross?” Mal groused. “Couldn’t o’ been one with puppies and kittens, no, it had to be a fed skimmer where a couple o’ purple bellies took advantage o’ some poor soul who couldn’t fight back.”

He’d figured out pretty quick what River was whimpering about, but it hadn’t helped. What was he supposed to say? ‘So sorry, my pilot’s a psychic and a couple o’ lowlife feds raped someone on that skimmer’? Yeah, as Zoe would say, that would have been fun.

“She apologizes,” River said, hanging her head and shrinking into herself. “No puppies to touch. Only screams that could not be screamed. Choking, gagging on...”

“Yeah, we get the point,” Jayne said hurriedly, looking queasy. “So, you done, Mal, or do you wanna keep trying to prove you’re right until we actually get arrested? ‘If that lady had called th’ law before we got outa there, we woulda been humped and you know it.”

“ _Bì zuǐ_!”[7] Mal snapped. River’s visceral imagery was making him feel a little on the peaky side himself. “We’ll talk about it when we’re back on the boat. Right now, we got to go meet with Yitani and pick up our cargo.”

 

***

 

“Okay,” Mal said, glaring at his pilot and his merc across the table. “If we do this— _if_ — who is River marrying?”

The pickup had gone smoothly, all things considered, but River had succeeded in creeping out their employer by telling him exactly which of his grunts had been skimming from him and how much, which had made the whole encounter a little tense.

“Role of Achilles presents complications,” River said fretfully. “Available resources adequate, but do not distribute evenly.”

Mal was too tired and too worried to keep track of River’s complex metaphor.

“Speak plain, little Albatross,” he snapped.

Tears filled River’s eyes.

“Spinning, spinning, spinning,” she murmured. “Chaos…” Her voice rose. “Broken,” she said. “Too broken, drifting…”

With a whimper, she scrambled out of her chair and rain for the bridge. Mal pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Jayne was wearing an expression that said clearer than any words, _nice work, dumbass_.

“Okay, so that’s the one thing she _can’t_ do,” Mal acknowledged.

“Don’t get why you’re so twisted up about this, Mal,” Jayne said. “Like I said, far as our plans go, this is pretty tame.”

“Jayne, do you even know what marriage _means_?” Mal asked. “Or is there not room for that in your brain, what with all the guns and the violence?”

He was in a bad mood and Jayne was the perfect object for all his pent up aggression.

“You need me to be good with guns and violence,” Jayne said testily. “That’s why you hired me.”

“I hired you ‘cause you was about to shoot us!” Mal said, his voice rising.

“And since I signed on, you had to make anyone else th’ same offer?” Jayne countered.

Mal had to own, that particular need had not arisen, but he didn’t want to say it. Jayne, however, rightly took his silence as acknowledgement.

“Mal, what is makin’ you such a gorram _píqì bàozào de hóuzi de pìgu_?” [8] he said.

“Jayne, do I have to spell it out for you?” Mal said. “ _The girl ain’t been with anyone_. Between goin’ to the academy at fourteen and then bein’ out in the black on _Serenity_ , not to mention crazy, she’s had the life of a gorram nun. And that… I mean t’ say… _they will notice, Jayne_. Some well-meanin’ folk get ahold of River and start fussin’ over her mental state, first thing they’re gonna do is give her a full physical, and they’re gonna be mighty suspicious when it comes up that she’s … uh… you know… ”

“Ya mean that she’s a virgin?” Jayne supplied.

Mal winced. Jayne really didn’t believe in leaving anything to inference, did he?

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I mean.”

“Why’d they even be checkin’ on that?” Jayne said, looking puzzled and more than a little disturbed.

“‘S somethin’ they do with head cases,” Mal said. “Inara explained it to me once when she was talkin’ about th’ counseling work she did at the trainin’ house. I won’t… look, th’ details ain’t for the like of you and me t’ be discussin’, but the general picture is, girl comes in with mental problems and no history and they check for signs of… abuse. Body scan’s less invasive, so they do that if they’ve got one, but if not, they just, well, look. Like I said, ain’t gonna be talkin’ on the details, but th’ thing is, they can tell if she ain’t been… if she hasn’t… ”

“Gotten with anyone,” Jayne supplied.

Mal nodded.

“And that right there is a whole passel o’ trouble,” he said. “There’ll be all sorts a’ uncomfortable questions about why th’ happy couple ain’t been… well… _happy_.”

“So you’re sayin’ that whoever marries her is gonna have t’ sex her,” Jayne said.

Yup, Jayne Cobb really did want everything spelled out nice and clear and simple. Mal closed his eyes.

“Yes Jayne,” he said, “That is what I’m sayin’.”

Jayne shifted uncomfortably.

“You think she’s figured that out?” he asked.

Mal didn’t have quite the same facility with the ‘you boob’ look that River did, but he gave it his best shot.

“Right,” Jayne muttered. “Genius.”

There was a long, awkward silence.

“Mal,” said Jayne, “I don’t think you should be th’ one t’ do it.”

Mal blinked at the other man. He most certainly did _not_ want to get biblical with his pilot— he really didn’t, the fact that his body found her all sorts of interesting did _not_ count, his head knew better— but he was a little offended that his his crude, selfish, uncouth merc thought that he was unfit for the job.

“Girl’s a reader, Mal,” Jayne said.

“Yeah, I think we’re all aware o’ that,” Mal snapped.

“Well, seems like the idea of sexin’ her gives you a powerful uncomfortableness,” Jayne said. “Listenin’ t’ you twist yourself up inta knots while you two… I mean, I ain’t a girl or crazy, but that sounds all kinds of upsettin’ t’ me.”

Mal could not exactly disagree.

“So here’s what I’m thinkin’,” Jayne went on. “I’ll do that part. Ain’t gonna bother me like it’ll bother you, she won’t have to read nothin’ bad off a’ me. But you gotta sign th’ papers. Me, I’m just a big, dumb merc, don’t know nothin’. People listen to you. It may give ‘em the urge t’ shoot you sometimes, but they listen. Maybe it’s that whole sergeant thing, I dunno. Point is, she gets into trouble, you’re th’ one who can get her out of it.”

Mal leaned forward and put his head in his hands. He felt a powerful urge to hit something.

“So I marry her, you bed her, and we all live happily ever after?” Mal said. “Touchin’ story. I may need a hanky.”

He got to his feet and opened one of the cabinets, yanking out a bottle of cheap rotgut and a glass.

“Okay,” he said, splashing the liquor into the cup and tossing it back in one gulp. “We do this. And I hope t’ God the Shepherd ain’t watchin’ us from on high somewhere, because if he is, we’re both goin’ t’ end up in a very special corner a’ hell.”

He brought the bottle back to the table and poured another shot before dropping his head back into his hands.

 

***

 

Jayne looked at Mal helplessly. He wished to hell that Zoe was here. Nobody else could deal with the captain when he got himself all twisted up about something and clearly Mal was about as twisted up right now as a man could get.

It wasn’t that Jayne didn’t have his own problems with this idea. Women, in Jayne Cobb’s world, came in two categories: family and trim. Family were the women you owed something to, women you looked out for, women you didn’t sex. Trim were the women you didn’t owe nothing to, all dealings on a firmly monetary basis, and you could sex them all you wanted, assuming they were agreeable. River was family. It broke the rules. Added to that, River was River. Taking care of her was gorram complicated on the best of days. Zoe or Kaylee were different, they were older and more experienced and hadn’t had their brains dissected by the Alliance. With River… well, it was so gorram hard to figure out what would hurt her and what would help her.

And speaking of which, he wished that it was a little clearer whether the girl actually understood the sex part of this plan, because she might be a crazy genius killer woman, but Mal was right, she was pretty gorram innocent about some things. Again, with Kaylee or Zoe he wouldn’t have been so worried, but River had had a whole lot of people putting a whole lot of things in her without her say-so and he knew she was still a mite fragile on that count. She didn’t even like her own brother sticking needles in her. He and Mal weren’t her brother and this was a hell of a lot more than needles.

So yeah, Jayne was unhappy about the situation and nervous about River getting hurt, but Mal seemed to object to the idea on principle. He was torturing himself about right and wrong in a way Jayne really couldn’t begin to understand. For Jayne, right and wrong didn’t exist until there was a specific situation at hand. For instance, shooting people wasn’t wrong, it was what he did for a living, but shooting, say, _Kaylee_ was all sorts of wrong. She was his _mei mei_ and she was the sweetest person he knew and she couldn’t hurt a fly even if she really wanted to and for all those reasons, Kaylee should never, ever get shot. So sexing River might have been wrong before, but now it was how they were going to keep her from being taken away. Since River being taken away was one of Mal’s cardinal _wrongs_ — man had taken them through _Reaver space_ to keep it from happening— Jayne would have thought that anything that kept her on _Serenity_ would have been about as _right_ as a body could get. But apparently, there was something he still didn’t get about the whole right and wrong thing, at least, about Mal’s right and wrong.

Jayne shook his head and got to his feet. He stretched, feeling his spine pop, and, with a troubled look at the captain, set off towards the bridge. There wasn’t a single gorram thing he could think of to help the man in his current mood.

Instead, he went looking for the person who probably could have helped Mal, assuming she weren’t crazy. Of course, if she weren’t crazy, Mal wouldn’t be going round the bend, so it was a bit of a puzzle. Jayne didn’t like puzzles much. Not because he couldn’t do them, but because they offended his sense of order. All that twisting and turning was not for him. He liked straight lines or, at the most, gentle curves.

And _wǒ de ma_ ,[9] it had been too gorram long since he’d gotten laid, because straight lines and gentle curves had him thinking about crazy girls legs. Oh, this was all sorts of not good. Sure he’d volunteered to sex the girl ‘cause it needed doing, but… _tā mā de_ ,[10] he weren’t supposed to _want_ to!

“Girl, you up there?” he asked gruffly, stopping in the door onto the bridge.

“Uncertain,” said a small voice from the pilot’s chair. “Variables… probabilities… _I am what I am_. False, but Iago or Satan? Unclear.”

“Damn, girl, you’re havin’ a rough day, aren’t you?” Jayne said, entering the bridge and moving to the co-pilot’s chair.

She met his eyes as he sat down. She was sitting in Wash’s old seat, her arms around her knees, bare feet perched on the edge of the chair.

“You don’t want to think she is sexually desirable,” she said, her brown eyes big and glassy.

“Gorramit, girl, you wasn’t supposed t’ hear that,” Jaybe growled.

“ _Havin’ a rough day_ ,” she repeated in his accent.

He sighed.

“Hard to block stuff out, huh?” he said.

She nodded.

“That why you bugged out?” Jayne asked, leaning back in the chair and jerking his thumb towards the mess.

She frowned and rubbed hard at her forehead.

“Leader’s neural activity causes resonation several orders of magnitude greater than is optimal,” she said. At his uncomprehending look, she clarified. “Captain is _loud_.”

Jayne snorted and rubbed a hand across his eyes.

“Not surprised,” he said. “Man has a burr th’ size of a tarantula under his tail about this plan o’ yours.”

River whimpered and drew back into the chair, face crumpling with distress.

“Hey, hey, not your fault,” Jayne said hastily.

“Arachnids in inappropriate places,” River said. “Cannot be allowed.”

Jayne frowned, stumped by the unfamiliar word for a moment, but when he realized what she meant, he smirked.

“You’re scared of spiders?” he said, delighted. “Big bad Reaver killer like you, afraid of some itty bitty spiders?”

She glared at him.

“ _Too. Many. Legs_ ,” she hissed vehemently.

He couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. Her face slowly relaxed and a dreamy smile replaced her look of distress.

“Laughter warm like sunshine,” she said, “Comfortable like a blanket, soothing like _Serenity’s_ heartbeat.”

“Yeah, guess we ain’t had enough to laugh about, this past month,” Jayne said. “Speakin’ o’ which, any idea what t’ do about the captain? He’s twisted himself up so tight it’s a wonder he ain’t choked hisself yet. You bein’ able t’ see in his head and all, thought you might have some ideas.”

River grimaced.

“Don’t like it in there,” she said. “Back and forth, back and forth. Get seasick.”

“Well, it could be worse,” Jayne offered. “You could _be_ Mal instead o’ just havin’ t’ _listen_ to him. Livin’ in his head— no wonder th’ man’s so crotchety. Must be powerful unpleasant, being seasick all the time”

She tilted her head, considering him for a moment, then giggled.

“Being an albatross is better,” she agreed. “Fly above the waves, maintain vestibular integrity.” She got a distant look on her face. “His head won’t be seasick-making forever,” she said. “We’ll help.”

“Well, that’s what I was askin’,” Jayne said. “How?”

River turned her chair and began pulling something up on the cortex.

“Rome on Earth-that-Was,” she said as though that explained everything.

Jayne let out a short bark of laughter.

“If that was s’posed t’ tell me anything, Crazy, it done failed,” he said.

She frowned, hands pausing on the keyboard.

“Staircase,” she said slowly. “It’s a staircase, not an elevator.”

Jayne sighed.

“How ‘bout you just tell me what I gotta do?” he tried. “I don’t doubt you gotta plan and I’m pretty sure it’ll work, but I don’t need t’ understand it. Hows abouts you just tell me my part?”

“For now, be Lancelot, ” she said. “Cannot be Tristan, won’t end well. Later… be Jayne.”

Jayne stiffened. Didn’t need to be a genius to figure out what she meant by “being Jayne.” It was like the captain said, he was good at one thing: violence. No shame in that, but it did mean that, when the Moonbrain said he needed to be Jayne, she was saying he was gonna need to kill some folk.

“We headin’ into trouble, Crazy Girl?” he asked.

She flashed him a brilliant smile that made his stomach flip in a curious way.

“Always,” she said.

“Fair ‘nough,” Jayne said, not as annoyed as he should have been, “But do I need t’ be gettin’ Vera right now, or should I wait ‘til later?”

“Time is relative,” River said.

He growled impatiently.

“Vera will be your mistress by the time you need her,” she said. “Do not worry, she understands. First, we must build our Round Table or nobody gets to dance. It’ll work better this time. Camelot fell because of problematic social norms. Can be circumvented now.”

“Okay, violence can wait,” Jayne said, pretty sure he’d gotten that part. “But the rest… I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Crazy Girl. Sorry.”

“Told you,” River said, still tapping away on the cortex, “Available resources adequate, but do not distribute evenly. Must adapt the equation.”

She finished what she was doing and beckoned him over. He hauled himself to his feet and went to look at the screen. The tag was for an interplanetary law database and River had pulled up a specific page labeled “family law>marriage>forms of marriage>Circe.”

_“Five forms of marriage are used on Circe. Of those five, four are recognized by the Alliance within certain parameters._

_“Monogamous: a marriage between two partners of any gender_

_“Polygamous: a marriage between one man and two or more women_

_“Polyandrous: a marriage between one women and two or more men_

_“Polyamorous: a marriage between more than two men or more than two women_

_“Polygynandrous: a marriage between two or more women and two or more men_

_“For reasons pertaining to taxation, the Alliance does not validate marriages between more than three people. Polygamous, polyandrous, and polyamorous marriages involving three partners are valid on any world, but those involving more than three people are only valid on Circe. Since polygynandrous marriages involve a minimum of four partners, this type of marriage is not valid anywhere but Circe”_

Jayne blinked at the screen. The big words were downright annoying, not to mention all looking the same, but he got the gist quick enough.

“ _Wǒ de ma_ ,” he swore. “Well if that don’t beat all. Never knew there were so many ways of doin’ it.”

“ _Not_ a dumb planet,” River said.

“Why you showin’ this to me?” Jayne asked.

“Because Camelot must not fall,” River said. “Keep her in the sky.”

Aha! Keeping her in the sky, _this_ he could understand.

“ _Serenity_ is Camelot,” he said, wanting to be sure he was right.

River nodded.

“And this,” he gestured to the cortex link, “This has somethin’ t’ do with how we keep her flyin’?”

River nodded again.

“King must marry the puppet, make her into a real girl, but cannot do it alone” she said. “Will get lost in the dark. Need the knight to lead them out of the twisty forest. But cannot be like Arthur and Lancelot with Guinevere. _Serenity_ cannot end in fire and a broken table.”

Jayne didn’t understand everything, but what she was saying about not doing it alone and a twisty forest was sounding sort of familiar.

“Were you listenin’ in on what we was talkin’ about after you left?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes.

“ _Very loud_ ,” she reminded him, pointing back towards the mess.

“So you know…” he trailed off, absolutely unable to finish the sentence.

She slid off the chair and stood in front of him, face sad. She reached up and put one hand on his cheek and his whole body jerked.

“ _Ain’t gonna bother you like it’ll bother him_ ,” she said in his accent.

She stroked his cheek and Jayne concentrated all his willpower on _not moving a muscle_.

“Girl, you thought about this?” he asked. “Really thought about it? ‘Cause doin’s different than knowin’ and I got no idea what it’s gonna do t’ that pretty head of yours.”

That long, slim hand left his face and pressed lightly against his chest. Jayne wasn’t sure which part was more of a turn-on: her delicate touch or the knowledge that that tiny hand could kill him in heartbeat.

“Baby bird in the nest,” she said. “Never flown before, cannot know. But cannot stay in the nest forever. Must spread its wings and fly.”

Now this, Jayne could understand. He’d grown up on a rural backwater of a moon, he’d seen baby birds aplenty. Always did wonder how they could get out of the nest the first time. It wasn’t like his little brothers and sisters learning to walk, a couple steps and plop, back on the ground. It was more of an all-or-nothing type of deal.

Also, did she know what else ‘fly’ meant besides flappin’ wings?

“Sexuality serves several roles in primate evolution,” River said. “Procreation, motivation, social bonding. Very important.”

Jayne’s mind went blank. He had been trying to keep it together, her really had, but when she started talking about sex using those big words, his brain shut down.

Why the hell was her using those crazy-ass jaw-crackers so gorram hot?

“It’s alright,” River said, and for a moment, she was all there, her brown eyes bright and mischievous and looking _at_ him as opposed to _through_ him. “Sex is natural. Something humans were built to do. Built to fly.”

Oddly, her moment of lucidity was what got his tongue and at least a little bit of his brain working again.

“You think you’re built to fly, baby girl?” he asked roughly.

He winced. It had come out cruder than he mean. He’d actually been trying to ask a serious question, find out how much she’d explored… ah… ‘flying’ and whether she thought she’d like doing it with a partner, but damn, it had come out dirty.

Although, _whoa now_ , the way her eyes were filling up with tears, it looked like she’d taken it even more serious than he had meant it.

“Actual and whole!” she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Girl! Not weapon!”

“Hey, hey!” Jayne said, grabbing her shoulders in his big hands and rubbing his rough palms awkwardly down the satiny smooth skin of her arms, trying to calm her down like he’d seen the captain doing. “Easy there!”

“Tried to take those parts away,” River whimpered, swimming eyes unfocused. Her fingers curled against his chest, tangling in the fabric of his shirt. “Make her not feel, not want, not know. Don’t need those parts to kill. Superfluous, interfere with performance. _Not_ ideal for defense deployment.”

Oh, _lā shǐ_.[11] He had been so worried about messing up that little head of hers any more, he’d forgotten what the people who had messed it up in the first place had been trying to do. They’d been trying to make the perfect weapon and, having seen the Operative’s handiwork, he knew their vision of a perfect weapon would be one that didn’t have any kind of feelings or urges whatsoever, definitely not _that_ kind.

They would most certainly _not_ have built her to ‘fly.’

“Hey, hey,” he said, shaking her gently, “Those stupid _húndàns_ couldn’t put t’gether a water pistol if you drew ‘em a gorram diagram. They certainly couldn’t put together a crazy little genius like you. Whatever you are, they did _not_ make you, _dong ma_?[12] All your parts are still there, they just messed with some of ‘em, that’s all.”

“Clip the wings, they’re still there,” she sobbed. “Pretty decoration, not functional.”

“Aw, hell,” Jayne said.

He’d never been any good at words anyways. He put one hand under her chin and tilted her head up, meeting her tear-filled eyes for a second before bending his head and pressing his mouth against hers.

 

***

River knew many things.

She knew to the fourth decimal place how fast _Serenity_ was moving relative to the twelve nearest astral bodies. She knew how many times per minute each heart on _Serenity_ was beating. She knew that, based on the poem _Arquehale_ but Xin Clark, _Serenity_ was “Tumbling through the night / Around an alien sun.”

What she hadn’t known, until this moment, was just where she ended and the ship began. But now her skin, that fragile boundary between _her_ and _not her_ , was alive with tactile sensation, so achingly warm and sensitive that she could feel— _she_ could feel—every inch of it.

River knew many things.

She knew that she was broken, a shell with a crack in it, a crack that let the universe in. She knew that, because she was broken, there were many things that, according to the laws of the planet she had been born on, she was not supposed to be able to decide—whether to enlist in the armed forces, whether to take out a monetary loan, whether to enter into matrimony. And she knew that, according to current psychological research, it was considered inadvisable to self-medicate for severe mental disorders with alcohol, drugs, or sexual intercourse.

What she had not known was that a simple kiss could overwhelm all of the voices in her head that told her these things. It couldn’t make them go away—they would never go away—but it could make them…irrelevant.

River knew many things.

But now she was learning something new.

 

***

 

Jayne did not make a habit of kissing, so maybe he’d just forgotten, but he was pretty sure he’d never felt anything as warm and soft has River’s lips. She made a tiny, surprised sound and it parted her lips just enough that he could _really_ kiss her and _damn_ , she tasted good. He slid his hand down off her shoulder, but oh, right, this wasn’t about whether _he_ was built to fly, it was about whether _she_ was, so instead of grabbing her ass like he wanted to, he slid his palm across the small of her back. Sure enough, she gasped and arched into him and _oh shit_ , she had to have felt that, but gorram it, he couldn’t help it and she was the one who’d been talking about this being natural and all.

He kept stroking her back and she pressed closer, whimpering into his mouth, and he realized that he had better stop this before the experiment got out of hand. He broke the kiss and pulled her head against his shoulder, burying his fingers in her silky, tangled hair. They were both breathing hard and she was shaking a little.

“See?” he said, voice a little hoarse. “Definitely built t’ fly.”

“Actual and whole,” she whispered.

“Damn right,” he said.

She pressed herself harder against him and he closed his eyes, thinking real hard on what kinds of protein they had in the galley and ranking them in his head from ‘tastes bad’ to ‘tastes like old socks’ to ‘please, Buddha, make it stop.’ Didn’t help much, but it did make the girl giggle.

“The blue one is particularly offensive,” she agreed.

He laughed and felt her relax a little against him.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Broken,” she said, “But the parts are still there. He has proved his point, nothing lost, just damaged.”

“Seems t’ me those particular… uh… _parts_ is pretty shiny,” he said, then cursed himself. Everything that came out of his mouth was dirty as hell all of a sudden. “I mean,” he said hastily, “Don’t look like they’re damaged at all, work pretty much like they’re s’posed to.”

She gave a little laugh.

“It’s alright,” she said. “She understands. Also, learning new metaphors. She likes metaphors.”

“Mal finds out I’m teachin’ you to talk dirty, he’s gonna pop somethin’,” Jayne said.

She lifted her head and looked up at him. Her cheeks still had tear tracks on them, but she wasn’t crying anymore. Her eyes were focused, but unreadable, looking at him and beyond him at the same time.

“King needs the broken doll and the knight to lead him out of the woods,” she said. “Needs sunshine.”

“You mean he needs a good laugh?” Jayne asked, remembering earlier when she had called laughter sunshine.

“Needs to be a real boy even more than she needs to be a real girl,” she said in seeming agreement.

“Ain’t that th’ truth,” Jayne said, smiling. “Okay, what do we do?”

“Broken doll is the glue of Camelot,” River murmured. “Without her, everything comes apart. Faithful knight serves his lady. Both serve the king, and the king keeps them safe.” She gave him a heartbreakingly earnest look. “They cannot leave the king in the wood while they run away into the meadow. Not polite. Camelot will fall out of the sky. ”

She pulled away from him and he clenched his teeth against her absence as she turned to the cortex and laid her finger on the screen.

“Three by three,” she murmured.

Jayne looked at the words under her finger: “ _Polyandrous: a marriage between one women and two or more men_.”

It took a minute for her meaning to sink in.

“ _Tā mā de wǒ de shēnghuó,_ ”[13] he swore.

This was beyond him and he knew it. Sex, he could deal with, but this was way, way more complicated.

“Mal!” he yelled, almost without thinking, “Think you better get up here!”

River smiled at him.

“See?” she said. “Three by three, need to be.”

 

***

 

“Huh.”

Mal stared at the cortex link, trying to process what he was seeing, but his brain refused to function. So instead, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Ain’t that just typical. Alliance goes and interferes in a planet’s business for the sake of some tax credits.”

He heard River giggle from the pilot’s chair where she was sitting with her knees drawn up, looking like a mischievous twelve-year-old. Jayne was sprawled in the co-pilot’s chair looking like he’d been hit over the head with something heavy. Mal knew exactly how he felt. His own head was aching like a son-of-a-bitch. Mal closed his eyes and tried to focus.

“Okay,” he said in his best I-am-holding-onto-my-calm-by-my-fingernails, do-not-mess-with-me voice, “You mind explainin’ this to me, little Albatross?”

“Camelot must not crash and burn,” River said.

She was acting calm, but he could see the salt-tracks on her cheeks from where she’d been crying and her hair was pretty mussed. He winced. His fault, he knew. He’d snapped at her, blamed her for being crazy when it was those Alliance _húndàns_ that needed blaming.

“Shhh,” River said. “Camel is already broken, adding more straws is redundant.”

“Huh?” Jayne said.

“Straw that broke the camel’s back,” River said. “Captain is feeling guilty, but carries too much guilt already. Has already broken the camel, now is just being mean to it.”

Jayne let out a choked snort of laughter and River smiled.

Mal felt his own lips twitch and covered it with a glower.

“When you’ve quite finished makin’ fun of me, little one, perhaps you could explain what you mean by crashin’ Camelot,” he said. “Way I remember it, Camelot was a city, and cities aren’t much given t’ crashing.”

River shrugged.

“Specifications change,” she said. “Concept parameters altered to apply to new situation.”

“She’s been tryin’ to explain it to me, Captain,” Jayne broke in. “Maybe you’ll understand better, you knowin’ what story she’s talkin’ about. She said Camelot was _Serenity_. Talked about a king and a knight and a broken table. I didn’t really get that part, but I understood what she pulled up on the cortex easy enough. She’s saying we have t’ do this whole marriage thing that way or _Serenity_ crashes and burns.”

Mal folded his arms, trying to remember the book about the Knights of the Round Table that his Ma’s cook had read him when he was a kid.

“Camelot was built by a King called Arthur,” he said. “Man had some mighty idealistic notions, said all men were equal and built a round table where he and all his knights could sit and nobody’d be lording it over anybody else. But Sir Lancelot, th’ king’s noblest knight, slept with Queen Guinevere, th’ king’s wife, and the rest of the round table sentenced her to be burned at the stake for adultery. Arthur couldn’t pardon her without going against his own principles, so Lancelot raised an army and attacked Camelot. He rescued her, but Camelot fell.”

“Popular version, not accurate,” River said. “Best known though, needed to make widely comprehensible parallels.”

“So th’ moral a’ the story is, women is trouble?” Jayne asked.

River glowered at him.

“Little boys being stupid, fighting over toys,” she said. “Don’t listen to their mothers, set the house on fire.”

It was Mal’s turn to snort with laughter.

“Reckon you may have th’ right of it there,” he said. “So, you’re comparin’ our situation here to Camelot? Not terribly encouraging, darlin’. Also, not sure about callin’ Jayne Lancelot. Wasn’t Lancelot s’posed t’ be the most honorable of Arthur’s knights?”

River made an impatient sound.

“Perfection is illusory,” she snapped. “Must work with materials available.”

“Fair enough,” Mal said. “But it’s still soundin’ like this is all gonna end in tears. Or fire, as th’ case may be. Woulda thought you’d kinda had your fill o’ bein’ burned at the stake, what with that unpleasantness on Jianying.”

“Way I unnerstand it,” Jayne put in, “We’re s’posed t’ do better than them folks ye’re talkin’ about. Now that you’ve told the story, makes a little more sense. Far as I can figure, she… well, _heard_ the conversation you and I had after she left, and she thinks we’re settin’ up to be like those fellows in the story. She’s saying we have t’ do it different, not make th’ same mistakes.”

Okay, so, this was making way too much sense. In a crazy-as-a-loon kind of way. But since it was the crazy girl’s idea, that shouldn’t really be surprising. And Mal had to admit, he had not been looking forward to marrying River only to send her to Jayne’s bed… and _wǒ de ma_ , if _that_ image wasn’t all sorts of damaging to his peace of mind. But surely the obvious solution was for Mal to consummate his own damn marriage or for River to marry Jayne.

“Won’t work,” River said.

“And why might that be?” Mal asked, folding his arms. “Seems th’ simpler answer.”

He already suspected that both of those options were flawed somehow, but having somebody else tell him so made him ornery.

“Guinevere and Arthur will get lost in the darkness, never find their way out,” River said. “Guinevere and Lancelot will set upon by rogues as soon as they leave the castle, king’s wrath will destroy everything.”

Oh, and _that_ made _way_ too much sense. He knew, in his heart, that if he married River and took her virginity, he’d drown them both in his own self-loathing. And if he let Jayne marry River, knowing that Jayne himself didn’t believe that he could protect her, and something happened to her… well, he’d probably kill them both, and anybody else that got in the way.

He scrubbed his hands over his face.

“I’m sorry, little Albatross,” he said. “I seem t’ be makin’ this all manner a’ complicated, don’t I?”

She slid out of her chair and put her arms around his waist, laying her head against his shoulder. He sighed and pulled her into a tight hug, pressing his cheek to her tousled hair and closing his eyes. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he did know that she was his crew, his Albatross, and that he would do anything in the ‘verse for her.

And just like that, everything became a whole lot less complicated.

“This what we need to do, Albatross?” he murmured into her hair.

“Yes,” she said. “To keep _Serenity_ up, we all have to fly.”

The sound of Jayne choking brought Mal’s head up abruptly. The big merc was holding back laughter, but at the same time, he also looked kind of horrified and Mal raised an eyebrow.

“Something you would like to share, Jayne?” he asked.

“I— uh— no?” Jayne said.

The man didn’t seem to know which way to look and his twitchiness was making Mal a mite nervous. River raised her head, a sphinxlike smile on her lips.

“Questions concerning the ability to fly required empirical data,” she said. “Jayne instituted necessary experimentation to determine the girl’s aptitude. Evidence suggests she will fly exceptionally well with a compatible co-pilot.”

Jayne groaned and covered his face with his hands. Mal glowered at both of them.

“You mind tellin’ me what the sphincter hell you two are talkin’ about?” he asked sternly.

Jayne remained stubbornly silent. River tilted her head up and studied Mal solemnly.

“Best to show,” she said finally.

She slid out of Mal’s arms, grabbed his hand, and let him over to where Jayne was trying to disappear into the co-pilot’s chair. River reached out and laid her free hand on the mercenary’s chest.

“Needs to see,” she said. “Needs to see, like I did. Doll is more broken in his head than in real life, needs to see what’s really there.”

Jayne’s hands dropped from his face and he looked warily from River to Mal.

“He’s gonna kill me, Crazy,” he growled.

“Only if you crash her,” River said with a bright smile.

Jayne studied River for a moment, then pulled himself to his feet, looking down at the tiny girl with a half-smile.

“So you’re sayin’ if you like it, he won’t shoot me?” he asked.

“98.2% chance that all vital organs will remain intact,” River said.

Jayne grinned.

“Well then,” he said, “Better make it good.”

And he bent his head and kissed her,

Mal’s mouth fell open and he went automatically for his gun, but River, probably anticipating that reaction from him, had grabbed his gun-hand when she pulled him across the bridge and was now holding onto it with a truly tenacious grip.

And the girl knew what she was doing, because in the few seconds between reaching for his gun and realizing that River wasn’t going to let that happen, it sank into Mal’s dazed brain that she seemed to be enjoying herself. Jayne had her pulled right up against him, one hand on her back and the other buried in her hair, but River had her free hand around his neck, so it seemed like she wanted to be there. And, okay, he had his tongue in her mouth, but he was actually being pretty gentle about it, and, judging by the little moan she made, she sure as hell liked what he was doing. Hell, it was kind of sexy, in a weird sort of way, and…

Mal’s thoughts abruptly screeched to a halt and he made a low, strangled sound in his throat.

 _Special hell,_ his brain whimpered, _special hell, special hell, special hell_.

River broke the kiss and smiled up at Jayne, while at the same time giving Mal’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Enough now,” she said. “Positive feedback, but system overload is imminent. Can’t burn out the circuits, not nice.”

“No, we definitely shouldn’t fry the captain’s brain,” Jayne agreed, returning her smile. “He needs that t’ keep us outa trouble.”

Mal, once again— _why_ couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut?— found himself saying the first bit of random flotsam that drifted across his mind.

“Thought you didn’t kiss ‘em on th’ mouth, Jayne.”

Jayne looked at him like he was insane, but— perhaps on the principle that it was always best to play along with crazy people— he humored him.

“Whores, Mal,” he said. “I don’t kiss _whores_ on th’ mouth. They don’t like it. They ain’t Companions, they ain’t sellin’ all that emotional _lèsè_ [14] and if you go askin’ ‘em for it, you’re a stupid _húndàn_. But don’t you think ye’re kinda missin’ th’ point here?”

River smiled at Mal kindly, as though she knew that he was running his mouth because he couldn’t help it… well, of course she knew. _Reader_.

“Not completely broken” she said. “Beat up, but has the parts, will still be able to fly.”

It would, Mal thought with some stray part of his brain that had mysteriously remained functional while the rest slid off the rails, have been infinitely better if he hadn’t remembered just then what ‘fly’ was slang for.

 

 

[1] Bastards

[2] Holy humping space whales

[3] Crazy

[4] Fuck my ancestors

[5] Addled

[6] Storm of sewage and entrails

[7] Shut up

[8] Grumpy monkey’s ass

[9] My god

[10] Fuck

[11] Shit

[12] Understand

[13] Fuck my life

[14] Garbage


	2. Lithium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

Kalista Ji, clerk at the Xan-Xian District Courthouse, looked up at the tall man in the brown duster standing in front of her. Kalista’s job could get boring some days, so she often entertained herself by imagining stories about the people who came in to file wills, apply for idents, get marriage certificates, change living status, or any of the other day-to-day business conducted by the Clerk’s Office. This man, with his Rim-world clothing, gun belt, and eponymous Independent coat, definitely did not belong in her division. He belonged in criminal court, answering charges for vigilante justice, just like an anti-hero in a war-vid.

“Hello, sir, how may I help you?” Kalista said with a professional smile and an inner wriggle of pleasure.

She loved a good anti-hero.

He gave her a heart-stopping smile that didn’t quite reach his blue eyes.

 _Too haunted by the war to ever feel true happiness_ , Kalista narrated in the back of her head.

“Hello, Ma’am,” he said with old-fashioned courtesy. “I’m here for a marriage certificate. Don’t rightly know how this works, never having done this before, but I’m told that we get it here and then bring it to the Shepherd who’s doing the ceremony?”

Kalista’s eyes widened and she stared at him in shock. That was _not_ what she had expected. But oh, it was deliciously romantic: a war-torn soldier who had fought on the wrong side finding love and, perhaps, healing with some gentle soul who could see beyond the hard exterior and the dark past to the good man within.

She would have to have her own private swoon-fest later.

“Yes, that’s right Mr…?”

“Reynolds, Ma’am,” he said, “Captain Malcolm Reynolds.”

 _Captain_. Oh my. Was that his military rank, or was he in law enforcement now? The second possibility seemed unlikely. What branch of law enforcement could this man possibly belong to?

“And I am Kalista Ji,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Reynolds.”

“Likewise,” he said with another smile.

“Well, assuming you have all the necessary information and idents, I draw up the paperwork and fill out the certificate. Once it has been signed and witnessed before a Shepherd or a Justice, you bring it back and we put the marriage on the official planetary record.”

“Shiny,” he said. “I think we’ve got all the paperwork together. Hope it’s not gonna be a problem that our only place of origin is my ship? We’re a long-distance transport, don’t have a planetside address as such.”

 _His_ ship. He was the captain of a _ship_. She had _known_ that he couldn’t be part of any law enforcement agency, not with that coat. Oh, this just kept getting more and more interesting.

“Not at all,” she said. “We actually get a lot of that, Xan-Xiang being a spaceport. So long as you have all the necessary identification information for the ship, it serves perfectly well as a place of origin. Now, I don’t know if you know this, but Circe has five different legal forms of marriage. Do you know which type of certificate you need?”

She had to ask because it was her job, but she was already calling up the screen for a monogamous certificate. Monogamy was the norm of the ‘verse and Captain Reynolds seemed like a traditional sort of man.

“As a matter of fact, I did know that,” Captain Reynolds said. “And I do know which type of certificate I need, although damned if I can pronounce it.”

Her head shot up in surprise. He was giving her a wry smile, but there was a strange look in his eyes. He half turned and jerked his head peremptorily at someone in the waiting area. Kalista followed his gaze and saw a big, heavily muscled man in a t-shirt and cargo pants standing against the wall, one hand on his gun-belt and the other on the shoulder of a tiny, dark-haired girl in a wispy blue dress and incongruous combat boots. The big man nodded to the captain and said something to the girl, who looked up at him with a strange expression, then took his hand and walked with him across the polished floor towards Kalista’s station. Kalista’s hand went involuntarily to her mouth. Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn’t been either of these people. Luckily Captain Reynolds’s attention was on the two figures behind him, so he did not see the gesture.

Kalista didn’t know what to think. There was something so heartbreakingly fragile about the way the girl followed the big, dangerous looking man’s lead, face blank, steps graceful, yet slightly hesitant. The way the big man was acting towards the girl was, somehow, proprietary and Kalista wondered if he was her brother—the coloring was right, although their builds were about as opposite as one could find. The girl looked terribly young and Kalista felt a stirring of uneasiness. She had been spinning romantic fantasies about this Browncoat ship captain, but she really didn’t know a thing about him. For all she knew, he’d struck some kind of underhanded deal with the girl’s brother and the child was being handed to him like so much goods.

The unlikely pair reached Captain Reynolds’s side. The big man gave the captain a brief nod while the girl fixed her gaze on Kalista. The clerk found herself momentarily transfixed by those huge, fathomless brown eyes.

“Ms. Ji, may I present River Tam and Jayne Cobb,” Captain Reynolds said. “They’re my… “

He stopped, frowning, and looked down at the tiny girl. Her eerie eyes left Kalista and turned to the captain.

“Intended partners,” she said in a low, calm voice.

“Right,” Captain Reynolds said, turning back to Kalista, “My intended partners.”

Kalista’s professional demeanor deserted her for a moment and she stared at the trio in open shock. The girl’s accent was pure Core-world, while everything about the captain, from his speech to his coat, screamed ‘Rim.’ Meanwhile, the big, tough-looking man, also clearly a Rim-worlder, had a watchful air and aggressive stance that reminded her more of a wild animal than anything else.

She could not for the life of her comprehend how these three people could belong together in the same room, never mind in the same marriage.

As Kalista stared, the girl hung her head, her hair falling forward to hide her face, and took a half-step back from the counter. Captain Reynolds, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, turned and reached out a hand to her, but the big man had already put an arm around her and pulled her against him, rubbing her shoulder clumsily. The captain froze, staring at the other man, and something unreadable passed between them.  The captain’s hand dropped back to his side and he turned away with a grimace, which he quickly covered with another bland smile.

Kalista’s assessment of the situation changed abruptly and her heart broke a little. It seemed that Captain Reynolds was not a bitter veteran being given a second chance, nor a harsh transport captain buying a teenaged wife. A new story was forming in Kalista’s head now: a hardened Independent seeking redemption and forgiveness with a beautiful young Core girl, only to have her fall in love with one of his crew. She wants to be with her lover, but will not go back on her word to the captain, so he decides to enter into a polyandrous marriage to make her happy, even though it means breaking his own heart.

Kalista recovered herself and gave Captain Reynolds a sympathetic smile.

“A polyandrous certificate then,” she said, closing the template she’d had on her console and calling up the proper forms. “Will any of you be changing your names?”

He nodded, his jaw tightening a little.

“River is,” he said. “She’s takin’ my name.”

He didn’t look as thrilled about that as Kalista thought he should. _It must feel meaningless, having her take his name without giving him her heart._

“Okay, there’s another form for that, I’ll fill it out at the same time,” she said. “Now then, if I can see your identifications and the ship’s papers, we can get started.”

Captain Reynolds reached into his coat for his idents and the ship’s details while the other two produced their own ident cards. As they laid it all out on the counter, Kalista’s eyes were drawn to the information on the ship.

“Type: Mid-bulk transport (Class B)

“Class: 03-K64-Firefly

“Registry Number: 404-E-132-4FE274A

“Hull Number: G-82659

“Owner: Captain Malcolm Reynolds

“Name: _Serenity_ ”

Kalista’s eyes misted over as she began filling out the forms. She knew her history well enough to understand what the name _Serenity_ meant. Captain Reynolds was a man who had lost everything, from the war he still believed in to the heart of the woman he loved. Kalista tried to sniff discreetly.

Some stories were too sad, even for her.

 

***

 

Shepherd Orion Makeda considered the poor, forsaken trio before him and gave a weary sigh. This was turning out to be one of the more difficult weddings he had ever performed and they hadn’t even gotten to the ceremony yet.

He hadn’t thought much of it when he’d seen their appointment in the Church daybook. Spaceship workers taking the opportunity of being planetside to make things official after being out in the black— it a common enough occurrence. Ship’s captains could perform marriages, of course, but some folks held true to the spiritual side of marriage and wanted a servant of god to officiate at the ceremony.

His misgiving has begun when he actually saw them. They showed up by themselves, unaccompanied by friends or family, wearing everyday clothes and looking grim and watchful. The tall ex-soldier, who wore his brown coat with an air of casual defiance, entered the chapel with the same reluctance he might have shown walking into a morgue or an abattoir. The big, rough-looking man, who followed the ex-Browncoat’s lead with the ease of long practice, kept looking around unobtrusively as though he expected someone to attack them from beneath the pews. And the girl...well, the girl walked between them, graceful as a dancer and tragic as a cut flower, her fingers grasped firmly in the bigger man’s big hand as though she might wander away.

When he had introduced himself and ushered them into the office for the spiritual council that traditionally preceded the actual ceremony, Shepherd Makeda’s unease had increased. The girl did not speak, allowing the two men to answer all the Shepherd’s questions, even those directed towards her. The big man kept his answers as short as was humanly possible, which was very short indeed. And the ex-Browncoat, although he maintained an air of civility, clearly wanted to get this over with and be on his way.

Now it had come to the point where Shepherd Makeda he could no longer continue the charade. He paused, folded his hands, and considered the three people before him carefully. When he spoke, he chose his words with care.

“Captain Reynolds, Mr. Cobb, Ms. Tam, I confess myself somewhat uneasy about this union,” he said. “While it is not within my purview to prevent you from marrying if you wish to, it is within my rights to refuse to perform the marriage if I feel that to do so violates my promise to God. I see before me two men who would rather be elsewhere and a girl who cannot speak for herself. So I am going to ask each of you why you are here and, if the answers do not ease my doubts, I will have to decline to ratify this marriage. I will, of course, direct you to a civil authority if you are still determined to go through with it, but I would strongly urge you to take some time to reflect before doing so.”

The two men both looked ready to throttle him and the girl seemed like she was about to cry.

“Ms. Tam,” he asked as gently as he could, “Why did you come here today?”

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, frowning in concentration. She looked like a child trying to remember her lessons and the Shepherd felt an involuntary surge of protectiveness towards her. The men who had brought her here were clearly much older than her and were both somewhat rough individuals. They could easily intimidate or take advantage of such an innocent child and the fact that she was so easily upset and so reluctant to speak did not speak well for their intentions. He had a horrible feeling that she was being mistreated and he felt a quite uncharacteristic urge to inflict bodily harm on the men responsible.

The girl’s eyes flew open abruptly and she let out a sharp breath.

“Have to protect them,” she said in a pure, precise Core accent, her liquid brown gaze intense and earnest. “Want them to be safe.”

The Shepherd stared at her, taken aback. She was, he could see, completely sincere, but what she had said did not fit with what he was seeing, and the Core accent just added to the mystery.

Masking his bewilderment as best he could, the Shepherd turned to the big man.

“Mr. Cobb,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice neutral, “Why did _you_ come here today?”

Mr. Cobb glared at him like the Shepherd had just asked him to strip his mother naked in public. For a moment, it seemed as though he might refuse to answer, but, to Shepherd Makeda’s shock, the girl put her hand on his arm and he seemed to relax.

“I trust her,” he said with a shrug, still glowering. “She says we should get married, I ask when and where.”

Shepherd Makeda felt his mouth actually drop open. This just kept getting stranger and stranger. He turned to Captain Reynolds, unable to hide his confusion any longer.

“Captain Reynolds?” he asked.

Captain Reynolds regarded him with weary disgust, like the Shepherd was a bad taste he’d encountered once too often.

“Please,” the Shepherd said, “I’m only trying to understand. To help.”

“Only help you can give, Shepherd, is to do your job,” Captain Reynolds said with calm resolve.

“This _is_ my job,” the Shepherd said. “Please, help me to understand.”

The ex-Browncoat sighed and then, inexplicably, looked to the girl. She met Captain Reynolds’s eyes with a strange, otherworldly sort of calm.

“Different cover, same book,” she said.

Shepherd Makeda blinked at this enigmatic response, but the captain’s lips twitched.

“That so?” he said.

She gave him a brilliant smile.

“ _When I talk about belief, why do you assume I’m talking about God_ ,” she said, her voice suddenly far deeper than the Shepherd would have believed could come out of such a tiny creature.

The captain let out a bark of laughter, suddenly seeming less like a cynical ex-soldier and more like a man in love, and the Shepherd began to think that maybe he had been mistaken about these three. Maybe they were only behaving suspiciously because they did not like a stranger asking them such personal questions. It would make a certain amount of sense. The captain had obviously fought a war for the right to go about his own business without interference, and anyone who had chosen to fly with him, never mind marry him, must at least be sympathetic to his views.

 “Fair enough,” the captain said, blue eyes still glittering with humor. “Never could win an argument with that man. It’s a mighty tall order though, Albatross,”

She frowned, concentrating.

“Truth is simple,” she said, “A baby naked under the sky. Nobody disapproves of a baby. But then it gets clothes, a cradle, a room, a house, a family, and suddenly everyone thinks it should be done differently.” She gave the captain another eerily calm look. “Just give him the baby,” she said firmly.

Captain Reynolds nodded in response to this extraordinary speech and turned back to the Shepherd. Shepherd Makeda, having considered the girl’s words as best he could and come to the obvious conclusion, braced himself for a story of an unexpected pregnancy and a case of questionable paternity. Everything (except for Mr. Cobb’s answer to his question, which still didn’t make any sense) fit with such a scenario. It was a common enough story, really, although it was discouraging. Sometimes he despaired of humanity.

“Look, Shepherd,” Captain Reynolds said, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees, “I’m not overly fond of answering questions concerning me and mine, but here’s what you need to know. These two are my family and I am a man who will do anything to protect my family. Anything at all.”

The ex-Browncoat’s sober blue eyes met Shepherd Makeda’s calmly, and the Shepherd had the unnerving sensation that, should _he_ be the one so unfortunate as to pose a threat to Mr. Cobb or Ms. Tam, Captain Reynolds would kill him, man of God or not.

“Now,” Captain Reynolds continued, “We ain’t had no call for blessings or papers and such before now— don’t hold with such things much anymore, truth to tell— but the situation has changed. You see, River’s sick. Ain’t gonna explain with what, that’s not your concern. But there may come a time she needs a next-of-kin and we’re all she’s got. We need t’ make it all official like so if that time comes, we can look after her.”

Captain Reynolds sat back, clearly having said all he was going to say. The Shepherd swallowed. It had been bad enough when finding out the girl was pregnant, but it was far worse to hear that she was sick— probably, reading between the captain’s words, dying. Not only would she be leaving this world heartbreakingly young, she would be leaving a child behind her. And if Captain Reynolds couldn’t even address the subject of the child directly…             The Shepherd felt suddenly old, old and tired.

“And?” he prompted gently.

“And what?” the captain asked, jaw tensing.

“The baby?” the Shepherd said as delicately as he could.

The captain’s defensive look disappeared, replaced by a quizzical expression.

“Baby?” he said. “What baby? Why’re we talkin’ about a baby?” His eyes widened and he he looked at Mr. Cobb. “Jayne, there somethin’ I should know?” he asked sharply.

Now thoroughly wrong-footed, the Shepherd looked at Mr. Cobb and was surprised to see the big man’s shoulders shaking.

“Could say that, Captain,” he said, struggling to suppress his laughter. “I think th’ Shepherd took Cra—” he stumbled, clearly having been about to use a pet name, but not wanting to do so in front of Shepherd Makeda, “little River’s speech a mite more… literal than she meant it and has now got th’ wrong idea of the situation.”

He lost his battle with mirth and let out an undignified snort.

The captain pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

“Why?” he said to no one in particular. “Why me?”

He raised his head and looked severely at the tiny girl, who was sitting demurely beside Mr. Cobb.

“You tryin’ t’ give me a heart attack, little one?” he said, attempting to be stern but sounding plaintive instead.

She looked at him as coolly and serenely as any priestess, but there was a sparkle of humor in her brown eyes. He groaned and turned back to Shepherd Makeda.

“I don’t s’pose you would be willing to just accept that our girl has a whimsical sense a’ humor and move right along to the marryin’ us part of this here delightful day?” he asked with weary resignation.

The Shepherd was momentarily speechless. The girl was pregnant and, he was pretty sure, dying, but here they were joking as though everything was fine. He wondered for a moment if the three of them were utterly mad. He’d heard of people on long-range vessels succumbing to space dementia when they stayed out in the black too long.

With an effort, he pulled himself together and focused on Ms. Tam.

“You’re sick, child?” he asked softly.

She met his gaze and held it.

“Uhoh,” Mr. Cobb muttered.

“River, darlin’,” Captain Reynolds said warningly, “You start playin’ with the Shepherd’s head, we’ll be on this rock ‘til Judgment Day.”

“Thinks I’m dying as well as gravid,” she said, cocking her head to one side. “Very upset. Doesn’t know what to do.”

Shepherd Makeda felt a chill slither down his spine. How did she know what he was thinking?

“Dying?” Captain Reynolds yelped. “Well where’d he get that idea?”

“You, you dumbass,” Mr. Cobb said. “You kinda went overboard on the impendin’ doom part of the ‘marry-us-now-or-else’ speech.”

Captain Reynolds folded his arms and closed his eyes. He made to speak, thought better of it, closed his mouth, then opened it again.

“I’m sorry, Shepherd,” he said, sounding more pained than sorry. “I didn’t mean t’ give you undue cause for concern. You can rest assured, she’s not pregnant, and she’s not dying that we know. She’s sick, but it ain’t fatal. However, if and when she needs help, there’s like t’ be a lot of fuss about us not being related legal-like. Planetside authorities can be mighty officious, they’ve a mind to be, and I’ve no wish t’ be given th’ runaround on account of lacking a bit of paper.”

Shepherd Makeda took several deep, cleansing breaths and tried to think about what he knew. A hard-edged Independent ship captain who didn’t trust anyone and would kill to protect his family. A rough but loyal hired hand with very little education and a surprising amount of insight. And a beautiful young Core girl with an unidentified malady who looked horribly vulnerable, yet seemed to have the answers to everything. He could not, for the life of him, figure these people out. He placed his fingertips together and closed his eyes, praying to the almighty for guidance.

“Don’t have to understand,” said the girl’s voice, quiet and strangely compassionate. “Just accept.”

The Shepherd’s eyes flew open and he looked at the girl with bafflement and not a little fear. How did she _do_ that?

“Give it up, Shepherd,” advised Mr. Cobb, observing him with a smirk. “Best not to worry too much on the whys and wherefores. Just say your words and get th’ forms squared away and be thankful you got off easy.”

And that was when Shepherd Makeda realized that trying to figure out who these people were and how they came to be here would drive him mad and would not help them in the slightest. Jayne Cobb had given him the soundest advice he could ask for in this situation: do as they asked and send them on their way with whatever blessings he had to bestow.

Sometimes God answered prayers for guidance in unexpected ways.

***

 

River existed, at this point in time, before the altar of a quiet Universalist chapel on a back street of Xan-Xian, Circe. There was a wedding taking place— her wedding, hers three times, but also just hers— and the atmosphere was incredibly tense. Of the six consciousnesses in the room, only the two Deacons serving as witnesses were free of deep moral and psychological conflict concerning what was taking place, and even they were vaguely uneasy, puzzled by the physical appearances and odd behavior of the people getting married.

River had spent the day drifting in a sea of consciousnesses not her own, observing their progress through Xan-Xian from a multiplicity of conflicting perspectives that left her woozy and confused. It was so difficult to remember, in such a tumult, which eyes and which thoughts were hers. Sometimes she would think that she was in her own mind, only to see an image of herself and realize that, once again, she had wandered inadvertently into someone else's awareness without noticing. The problem was, being in someone else’s mind wasn’t the same as being them. She was still her, still thought like her and felt like her— so many feelings, she could never block them out— but the information coming in belonged to someone else. That made it very hard to tell the difference between one mind and another, sometimes.

Of course, if she concentrated, she knew. Each mind was unique, did different things in different ways, and with enough thought she could recognize the differences, like telling faces apart. But it took effort, except with people she knew. It was sort of like picking out the voice of a friend in a room full of voices versus picking out the voice of a stranger. It helped if someone was thinking about something that was familiar to her, her ship or her crew. Reference points. She’d been able to define the contours of the docking crew’s minds, as well as the customs officials’, the courthouse clerk’s, the jeweler’s, and the Shepherd’s, by how they saw her family and her ship. The rest was just chaos.

The Shepherd’s mind was hard for her. Being with him was like being with Shepherd Book, only not, and it made her sad, so sad. She missed Shepherd Book so much and he was dead and it was her fault. Her fault two times over; Mal’s guilt over the destruction of Haven was even sharper and more all-encompassing than hers was and it washed over them both in dark, smoky waves.

She knew, because Mal thought about it often, that her inability to regulate her reading or articulate her thoughts was partly the result of not having her meds. Time had become hopelessly confused for her, so it was difficult to separate the ‘then,’ when she had been in control from the ‘now’ when she was at the mercy of every stray electromagnetic signal. Mal’s sense of time, however, was fairly intact, and he was acutely aware that, whatever Simon had been giving her, it had made her better.

She relied on his memory to give herself hope. If he was right, she didn’t have stay like this forever, trapped in limbo with the universe running through her brain, unable to communicate except in torturous, mangled metaphors. They would get Simon back and he would do what he had done before and she would regain at least partial ability to exist at a single point in time, space, and consciousness. In her current state, even moments of singular existence were something to hope for.

The words of the wedding ceremony washed over her sixfold, six sets of ears hearing, one set of lips speaking. 6:1 ratio.

Wish it was Shepherd Book speaking the words.

Her or Jayne? Hard to tell, even if Jayne thought it, she felt it. It was often impossible to identify other people’s feelings if she had the same ones. Missing Shepherd Book was something she and Jayne both did a lot of.

It wasn’t Mal, he didn’t want to be married by a Shepherd at all. Ironic, considering that the church wedding was for him. They could have gotten married by a Justice, but even though Mal didn’t believe anymore, he wouldn’t feel married unless a preacher married them.

So many contradictions in his head. How did he stand it?

 _Must be powerful unpleasant, being seasick all the time_.

Jayne’s voice. She felt her mouth— _her_ mouth— curve into a smile. Jayne made her laugh.

And now it was time to exchange the vows and River felt panic welling up in her, because it was so confusing who she was supposed to be and what she was supposed to be doing.

 _Purpose_.

She knew from experience— it had to be experience that gave her this certainty, even if she didn’t have a very good sense of time right now, because she would never trust something that wasn’t based on empirical experimentation— that purpose was one of the few things that could shape the endless cascade of chaos pouring through her head. The need to accomplish a specific goal would allow her to cut through the dizzying surplus of input and _act_.

 _What must be done_?

Passive voice. Could add “by space monkeys” to the sentence and it would still be grammatically correct. But that was how she existed much of the time, no clear subject or object, just incomprehensible movement. A lot of things were done by space monkeys in her world.

_Need to get married._

Repeating after the preacher… no, that was _Mal_ repeating after the preacher. Then Jayne. Now she needed to actually _speak_ , not just think about speaking. But it was confusing, because she was having a hard time keeping track of what was the preacher and what was her.

 _I, River Tam_ ,

“I, River Tam,”

 _Take you, Malcolm Reynolds, and you, Jayne Cobb_ ,

“Take you, Malcolm Reynolds, and you, Jayne Cobb,”

 _To be my lawfully wedded partners_ ,

“To be my lawfully wedded partners,”

_To have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part._

“To have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

Someone was amused by the last part. _I reckon our merry little band can’t get much poorer or sicker than it is at this particular juncture._ Probably Mal, his sense of humor. _Faith without hope, Shepherd Book would be so proud_. Definitely Mal.

And now they had to exchange the rings they had bought cheap from that nice old lady in the port market. The Shepherd told Mal to get them out and he did, and then the Shepherd told them all to repeat after him and _oh_ , speaking in _three_ voices at the same time was confusing.

_With these rings, I thee wed,_

“With these rings, I thee wed,”

_With my body, I thee worship,_

“With my body, I thee worship,”

_And with all my earthly devotion, I thee endow. Amen._

“And with all my earthly devotion. I thee endow. Amen.”

None of them knew what to do next and this would have been complicated even if she was sane, because she’d never been to a wedding where more than two people were getting married and she didn’t know who was supposed to put which ring on which finger. Ah, but the preacher and the deacons did, so she could do what they expected her to do if only she could make sure that she was actually _doing_ it, not simply thinking it.

 _Purpose_.

She turned to Mal, who had all three rings in his palm. He was confused too, but confused was a natural state for him and he was resigned to it. He refused to be ashamed for not knowing something he had no cause to know. She knew which rings were which, even Jayne’s and Mal’s, which were only a tiny bit different. She _listened_ , _heard_ what the exchange meant, and _concentrated_ on _seeing_ how to proceed.

_Giving the ring promises dedication, receiving the ring promises acceptance._

Idiotic symbols, always too simple for the complexity they were trying to express.

 _Identify need_.

Who needed to give what the most to whom?

_Concentrate._

She plucked two rings out of Mal’s palm, leaving him with the smallest one— _hers_. Both men watched her, Mal with one eyebrow cocked questioningly, Jayne with a frown of concentration. She turned to Jayne, looking up at him expectantly, and, after a moment, he nodded and held out his hand so she could slide the ring on his finger. She handed him Mal’s ring, showing him with her eyes what he should do. A look of amusement and trepidation crossed his face and he turned to Mal, who was staring at them like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

_Do not punch me for this, Mal._

_Jayne Cobb is putting a wedding ring on my finger. If this is a nightmare, I hope I wake up soon._

And that left Mal with her ring. He turned to her and slid it very gently on her finger and she wished she could explain what she was promising by taking it, but he wasn’t ready yet.

And now the Shepherd was saying, “I now pronounce you legally wed. With your kiss, you seal this union _._ ”

Head— no _heads_ , Jayne’s and Mal’s— whipping around. Looking at the Shepherd. Looking at each other. Looking at her.

Mal, rapid-fire as bullets in a gunfight: _I am not kissing Jayne Cobb. I may have played sly a time or two, but it ain’t really my thing and no_ way _am I swinging for Jayne Cobb, he ain’t near pretty enough, and even if he was, he’s_ Jayne _._

Jayne, simple and direct as a punch to the solar plexus: _Not. Kissing. Th’ captain._

She smiled— _her own_ smile— and took their hands. Reassuring squeeze, tiny shake of her head.

Later, she would have to explain what the kisses meant.

If she could.

If she remembered.

If ‘later’ was different than ‘now.’

She stood on tiptoe and tilted her head up to kiss Jayne, who accepted with a relieved breath. It was a chaste kiss, a kiss he wouldn’t mind his Ma seeing— they were in church, after all.

Then she turned to Mal, who suddenly looked even more uncomfortable than when he’d thought he’d have to kiss Jayne. His mind was chanting _special hell, special hell, special hell_ over and over again.

_Purpose._

She met his eyes, concentrating with all her might on being _here_ and being _now_ and being _her_. Stepped towards him, lifted her chin, but waited for him to kiss her.

Free will. Important to him.

He hesitated, then, slowly, lowered his head. Eyes— her eyes, his eyes, _their_ eyes— drifted shut, lips met. Still chaste, but somehow… _hotter_. _Tinglier. Scarier. More._

_Need. I need._

Who thought that? No way to tell. Shivery, and achy and desperate and not even sure for what.

And then it was over and she hung onto Mal and Jayne’s hands for all she was worth because everything was too much and she felt too much and it was all swirling around in her head and she couldn’t concentrate anymore.

 

***

 

“You alright, Albatross?” Mal asked, looking down at River as they exited the chapel.

She was still hanging onto Mal and Jayne like grim death and her breathing was shallow and uneven. When she spoke, her voice was breathy and strained.

“ _And all their voices sang together_

_A clarion call, a blessing curse,_

_Sounding all and all as one_

_In all the corners of the ‘verse.”_

Jayne suppressed a groan. He had not rutting idea what she was saying. Mal seemed to get it though.

“I imagine it must’ve been mighty loud at that,” he said, “You did good, little one. Held it together, even managed to keep us from lookin’ too foolish. Though I would of taken it as a kindness if you’d seen your way t’ warnin’ me that Jayne would be puttin’ a ring on my finger. That’s the sort of thing a man likes t’ brace himself for.”

“Symbols not big enough,” River muttered. “Trying to stuff the ‘verse in a gorram jar, always one moon that won’t fit. Grabbing for the stardust…” she continued babbling, trailing off into nonsense about pies and moos and other words Jayne just plain didn’t know.

Mal met Jayne’s worried gaze and grimaced.

“Think she’s goin’ wooly?” Jayne asked.

“Reckon things just got a mite noisy in there,” Mal said. “Six people thinkin’ on th’ same thing at the same time— even repeatin’ the same words for some of it. Imagine it must be tough, havin’ all that in her head.”

Jayne just nodded. Mal seemed to understand a little what it must be like in River’s head— not surprising really, the man was halfway to crazyville himself.

“Seems like we should be gettin’ her back t’ the ship, then,” he said.

Mal frowned. Uhoh, that was his _there-is-a-plan-but-it’s-already-shot-halfway-to-hell_ face. Jayne tensed up and walked a little closer to River, who was muttering about armor and ducks.

“Well, I gotta see about getting the marriage put on file,” Mal said, “And _you_ …” he cleared his throat, “You need t’ update your innocs.”

Jayne’s head whipped around, but Mal had his face set and was looking stubbornly straight ahead. Jayne opened his mouth to protest that his shots were good for another two months, but Mal went right on talking.

“There’s a clinic over near Port Control, does that kind of thing for those as ship out,” he said. “Haven’t had much call t’ use those kind a’ services since getting our own doc, but I checked it out before we hit dirt. Shouldn’t be no fuss.”

“Mal, my innocs are fine, Simon kept ‘em up regular,” Jayne said. “I ain’t stupid or nothin’.”

“Don’t care,” Mal said. “No harm in bein’ cautious and…” he trailed off, and Jayne could see the tension forming in his jaw. “Just do it, Jayne,” he said.

Now, Jayne wasn’t any kind of genius, but even he could see that Mal’s order had nothing to do with the effectiveness of Simon’s innocs, so he shut the hell up and nodded.

“Now, I was gonna send her with you, get her back to the ship as soon as possible, but I’m a mite twitchy about you takin’ her in among all those needles, her bein’ in such a state,” Mal went on.

“Mal,” Jayne said, voice low, “Better havin’ her be crazy at a clinic than a courthouse. Married or no, we do not need the feds lookin’ too hard at us if she throws a fit in Government Central. ‘Case you’ve forgotten, our cargo ain’t ‘zactly 100% kosher.”

That muscle in Mal’s jaw was like to jump off his face, he got any tenser.

“No, I ain’t forgotten, Jayne,” he said. “Okay, you take her, but you look after her or I swear, I will end you slow and painful. _Dong ma_?”

Jayne growled.

“I ain’t gonna let anything happen to ‘er, Captain,” he said, “An’ if you think I would, yer an even bigger _shé pìgu mābù_ [1] than you look.”

Mal’s jaw worked for a moment, but when he spoke again, his words were so unexpected they caused Jayne more than a little alarm.

“Apologies, Jayne,” he ground out between his teeth. “Not used ta’ this whole… what I mean is, I know you wouldn’t a’ married her if you hadn’t meant ta do right by her. I was outa line.”

Jayne gulped.

“‘Sokay, Mal,” he said. “You always take it out on me when you get ornery. Ain’t no big deal.”

“Don’t make it right, Jayne,” Mal said soberly, still not looking at him. “You’ve proved yourself ten times over since Miranda, I ain’t got no cause to keep harpin’ on you. Habit, I guess. Point is, we both care about River an’ want t’ do right by her, and I ain’t makin’ a good start by doubtin’ you.”

Jayne didn’t know what to say, so he spent a few minutes working his mouth like a fish before falling back on a lame but sincere, “Well, thanks Mal.”

“You’re welcome Jayne,” Mal said.

They went the rest of the way in silence while River muttered something about tigers and dangerous sports.

 

***

 

When Mal returned to _Serenity_ a few hours later, he found a very agitated Jayne pacing the mess and an unconscious River on the couch.

“Captain, I ain’t got no ruttin’ idea what happened,” Jayne began as soon as Mal entered the room.

Mal raised his hand.

“Is there Feds, thugs, or a horde of angry citizens about storm my boat?” he asked.

“No, Mal,” Jayne said, “Nothin’ like that.”

Mal let out a deep breath and sat down in a chair.

“Did somethin’ break River?” he asked.

“Well, sorta,” Jayne said. “But that’s th’ thing, I had no idea what th’ ruttin’ hell was goin’ on until it was too late.”

“Okay, Jayne, tell me what happened,” Mal said with an exhausted sigh.

“I went t’ th’ clinic, like you told me to,” Jayne said. “She was a little better by th’ time we got there, walkin’ okay and smilin’ at th’ puppies in th’ street an’ everything. Anyway, we get to the clinic, and before I can say a word she waltzes up to the’ lady at th’ counter and says we’re newlyweds off a transport and need our innocs updated.”

“Wait, ‘we’?” Mal asked. “As in _both of you_?”

“Yeah, Mal,” Jayne said. “Well, you can imagine I got her t’ one side as soon as I could and asked her what the hell she was playin’ at, bein’ as there’s nobody but the Doc as has ever been able t’ put a needle in her, but she just kept babblin’ nonsense. Before I know it, some doctor is callin’ our names and she’s grabbin’ my hand and haulin’ me in there and I can’t think of a way t’ stop her without causin’ a scene. So I ask ‘em t’ do me first, buy some time t’ think, y’ know, and she’s sittin’ there shakin’ but tryin’ real hard not t’ say anything. And then I think about just grabbin’ her and pullin’ her outa there, but she picks up on what’s goin’ through my mind before I fair get started and starts shakin’ her head at me and…”

Jayne dropped his eyes.

“Y’ know I ain’t all that smart, Mal,” he said. “I always follow her lead, she usually knows better than me. So she asks me t’ hold her hand, and I ask her if she’s gone absolutely off her gourd, ‘cause it’s obvious she means t’ do it. Th’ doc is lookin’ at me like I’m th’ biggest _yǐndǎo jiǎogēn_ [2] in th’ ‘verse and she gives me that look— you know th’ one, captain, th’ big brown eyes an’ the sad mouth— and before I know it I’m holdin’ her hand and they’re stickin’ th’ needle in her arm. I thought we was done for, bracin’ myself for her t’ take out th’ whole clinic, but she just…” he shook his head. “She passed out. Just passed out right there in the chair. I came up with some dumb-ass line about her bein’ mortally scared o’ shots and carried her outa there quick as I could, but she ain’t woken up yet.”

Mal stared at his merc, at a loss for what to say. Allowing someone not Simon to put a needle in their unstable little assassin was dumb, even for Jayne, but it sounded like River had done a pretty masterful job of manipulating him.

Mal sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“You got any idea why she mighta wanted t’ get innoced?” he asked.

“No ruttin’ clue, Mal,” Jayne replied. “She wasn’t makin’ a whole lotta sense, babbling about rabbits and polar bears and not lookin’ at hearts n’ eyes.”

Mal gave up, shook his head, and pushed himself to his feet.

“I’m gonna get us off this rock,” he said. “May be foolish, but it’ll wonders for my calm, if nothin’ else. We can figure out what’s what when we’re back in the black.”

Mal headed for the bridge, wishing desperately for Zoe. He needed clear head and deadpan sense of humor right about now. His world, he was beginning to realize, was at the mercy of forces beyond his control, just like he’d been told in Sunday School when he was a boy. But instead of an omnipotent God pulling the strings, it was a slip of a girl with big brown eye and a damaged but brilliant brain. Zoe could have helped him keep his head while navigating this bizarre new universe River’s mind had created.

Why hadn’t he brought Zoe with him to that meet on the D’Arian Skyplex instead of Jayne? He’d feel better about Simon and Kaylee if they were with Jayne in whatever internment camp they’d ended up in and he’d sure feel better about his chances of getting them out if Zoe was on _Serenity_. But he’d sent Zoe down to the surface on the resupply run because he trusted her. River had been jumpy from the moment they docked above that accursed planet, sensing the unrest that would, a few hours later, ignite into rebellion, and he’d wanted his right hand looking out for Simon and Kaylee since he couldn’t do it himself.

If only he’d never let them go down to the planet at all. They could have limped along without engine parts and medical supplies until they’d hit their next stop.

But at the time it was just unrest, no different, if the cortex feeds were to be believed, than what D’Aria had been experiencing for the past six months. Whatever happened to light the spark, it hadn’t happened yet. Mal knew enough about the nature of angry masses of people to know that these sorts of things happened more or less randomly. Something like the D’Arian Uprising could simmer for days or years, just waiting for the right catalyst. There’d been no way to know that that day of all days would see half the population of that planet rise up against the Alliance.

            What Mal could have predicted, but hadn’t thought about until afterwards, was that Zoe, Simon, and Kaylee would probably be among the first to be arrested simply because they looked like offworld troublemakers. In that kind of situation, the authorities would be looking for rabble-rousers, and between Zoe’s brown coat and Simon’s Core-gentleman-turned-rogue appearance, they would fit that bill just right.

Another thing he could have predicted—hell, guaranteed—was that no one arrested that day on D’Aria would get a trial. He’d been watching this sort of thing happen for the past two years, ever since the Miranda Wave, and the Alliance had put some hard-hitting new laws in place that denied even basic rights to those suspected of “inciting or participating in wide-scale insurrection.” When the new laws had gone into effect, Mal had felt a grim sort of satisfaction knowing that he’d been right about the Alliance all along. Now, though, he just felt helpless.

And guilty.

He hadn’t missed the irony, that his involvement with the Miranda Wave had started this and now his crew was paying the price.

Mal finished the preflight sequence and headed to the engine room to fire up the engines.

 

***

 

When Mal returned to the mess two and half hours later, they were out of atmo and locked on a nineteen hour straight shot towards Ganymede. River had made their little side-trip to Circe possible by using the gravitational effect of two moons and a plutoid to save on fuel, but on the way out the best they could do was minimize on course changes. She’d plotted the course into the computer before they’d even landed, so all Mal had to do was follow the NavSat plan she’d programmed in and not screw up.

Even he could do that.

He found River and Jayne sitting at the table with bowls of one of the less objectionable protein mixes in front of them and a third laid out at his usual place. Mal studied River carefully as he sat down, searching for clues to her mental state, but he couldn’t really tell how she was doing. She was eating fine— not staring at her fork like it was an alien or anything, which she had been known to do on occasion— but her attention definitely appeared to be elsewhere. As he sat down, she tilted her head to one side, listening to something he couldn’t hear, then shook her head and jabbed her fork viciously into her food. Jayne was eating fast as always— took a lot to put that man off his feed— but he was keeping a wary eye on her and grimaced at her sudden show of food-directed animosity.

“She talked t’ you at all?” Mal asked, picking up his fork even as he concentrated on the little reader.

Jayne shrugged and swallowed before answering. The man’s table manners would never be fit for Core society, but almost three years on a boat with Zoe had domesticated him some. After the tenth or so time he’d talked with his mouth full only to get hit somewhere sensitive, he’d gotten out of the habit.

“I asked her what th’ hell happened back on planet,” he said, “But she glared at me and told me to stop wastin’ valuable resources.”

River’s fork paused and she looked straight ahead as she, apparently, quoted herself:

“Oxygen in space is finite,” she said. “O² processors replenish the supply, but the cycle takes 30.465 hours to complete. Cannot use more than the maximum amount over a set period of time.”

She went back to her food.

Mal thought about it as he ate and, to his surprise, got to a point where thought he might have an idea what she was getting at.

“Think she might mean she’s only got so much sanity she can pull out at any given time,” he told Jayne. “She has to have cashed in an awful lotta chips on Circe, what with actin’ normal and dealin’ with all manner of folk thinkin’ all manner of odd things. And it’s awful hard for her to explain stuff; has t’ pull out all those fancy stories and metaphors and such. Maybe she’s just too tired right now.”

“36.2% remaining,” River said, nodding. “Must allocate correctly. Prioritizing is crucial. Cycle continues, levels should return to acceptable range in plenty of time.”

She went back to eating and, judging by her smile, resolving whatever argument she had been having in her head.

“In plenty of time for what?” Jayne wondered.

He’d finished his food and was leaning back in his chair, studying River with a worried frown.

“Reckon if it were anything fatal, she’d let us know,” Mal said with a shrug.

He finished his meal in silence and helped Jayne clean up. River remained at the table, tracing complex patterns on the wood with her fingertips. Mal wasn’t really surprised when she stood up the minute they were done, taking a deep breath and focusing on them with deliberate effort.

“In time for now, looks like,” he said.

They waited, Jayne with his arms crossed, Mal with his hands tucked in his belt.

“ _Only thing we have to fear is fear itself_ ,”[3] she intoned. “Fear is far worse than the thing that is feared. Time now, time to make the fear go away. Rebuild Camelot, make it new.”

Mal started running through all the things she was afraid of— needles, blue hands, strangers, crew getting hurt, _Serenity_ getting hurt— trying to figure out what she might be talking about. Then he realized that he was going about this all wrong. If she was talking about Camelot, that meant she was talking about _Serenity_ , which meant that, whatever the fear was, it was one they all shared. For a second, he had a wild surge of hope that maybe her crazy genius brain had figured out where their missing crew was. But then he realized that wasn’t likely and besides, there was a far more pressing concern that had been weighing on his mind— and, he assumed, Jayne’s— since they’d all promised to have and to hold in that chapel.

“You sure, little one?” he asked, swallowing hard. “Won’t be hitting Harvest for another three days, plenty of time if you want to get your head squared away a little more.”

“Can’t,” she said. “Presence of _Loxodonta africana_ [4] prevents harmony. Resolution of the problem will allow the song to resume.”

“Lock-so-whatsit?” Mal asked, momentarily distracted.

“Largest terrestrial mammal on Earth-that-was,” River replied. “African bush elephant.”

“Uh…” Mal blinked, then nodded. “Okay, so there’s a large-ass elephant in the room, got it. And you want to… get it out in the open so it stops messing with th’ smooth workings of our boat and bothering your head.”

She nodded vigorously.

Mal felt his face heating up and he started to fidget.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat. “Well then, I’ll… uh… that is t’ say, you two should…”

“Mal, what’s she talkin’ about?” Jayne asked.

“She’s sayin’ it’s time to, uh, consummate this union,” Mal said, wincing. “Apparently us worrying about it is causin’ all sorts of of turmoil in her head and she can’t get it straight until we settle down.”

“Oh,” Jayne said.

He thought about it for a minute, shifting his weight a little uncomfortably, then nodded.

“Makes sense,” he said. “I mean, it’s gotta be annoyin’ as hell, listenin’ t’ us gettin’ ourselves all worked into a state over somethin’ this… uh… personal. Come t’ think of it, if I were her I’d prob’ly have knocked us both out cold by now just t’ shut us th’ hell up.”

“Look,” Mal said, taking great care to look anywhere that _wasn’t_ at Jayne or River, “Before we hit Circe, I set up that bed Inara left in her old shuttle. It’s just about th’ only decently sized bed on _Serenity_ besides Zoe and Wash’s and… well.”

He didn’t think that even Jayne needed him to explain why him and River having conjugal relations— and _fú de shénshèng mǔqīn,_ [5] he did not want to be thinking on that for all sorts of reasons— in the bed their missing first mate had shared with their dead pilot was a Very Disturbing Idea.

“I… uh… thanks Mal,” Jayne said, scratching the back of his head. “Guess I hadn’t thought…”

He trailed off.

“Well then, I’ve got things t’ do… somewheres else,” Mal stammered.

River cocked her head to one side, then, with light, graceful steps, crossed the room to Mal and took his hand in hers.

“Lithium, not helium,” she said. At his blank look, she made an impatient sound. “Ionization is not acceptable. Static causes sparks, blows up _Serenity_.”

“Hey, nothin’ is gonna blow up my boat, you hear?” Mal said, embarrassment momentarily overridden by concern for the ship.

River was nodding her head vigorously and pulling him over to stand by Jayne. She grasped Jayne’s hand in her free one and looked from one to the other.

“Lithium,” she said.

She then began pulling them determinedly towards the door.

“Think she wants you t’ come with, Mal,” Jayne said bemusedly.

“ _What_!” Mal yelled, planting his heels and bringing River to a sharp halt. “No, that’s… _wǒ de ma_! What th’ gorram hell are you thinkin’, girl?”

River bit her lip and stamped her foot in frustration.

“ _Not helium_!” she yelled. “Must remain stable!”

Jayne had been staying out of this until now, but her last words seemed to trip something in his brain.

“Here,” he said, “Remainin’ stable or whatever, you talkin’ about keepin’ your head steady?”

She nodded hard.

“Woulda thought, given th’ whole gettin’ seasick thing, Mal bein’ somewheres else would be th’ best thing for that,” Jayne said. “Man’s got some powerful guilt eatin’ him over this, doesn’t seem like you need that in your brainpan right now.”

River made the ‘you utter and complete idiot’ face. It was almost the same as the ‘you boob’ face, only with a little more pity and a little less contempt.

“Lion roaring four times as far away is still loud if he was only a foot away to begin with,” she said.

“You sayin’ that th’ boat’s not big enough for you not t’ hear him?” Jayne asked.

“ _Very_ loud,” River said. “Hear him across the entire savannah. Better to have him occupied with taking care of his pride than listen to him gnawing fruitlessly on his paws behind the bushes.”

“Hey now,” Mal said, “I’m right here. Stop sayin’ things about me I can’t understand.”

“She’s sayin’ she can hear you thinkin’ clear across th’ boat, Captain,” Jayne said. “Near as I can figure it, she thinks it’d be better for her if’n you are in the room lookin’ after her than havin’ you somewheres else with nothin’ t’ do except worry on her.”

Mal opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped by the realization that, the minute the shuttle door closed, he would be imagining all sorts of nightmare scenarios that would, almost certainly, be far worse than what was actually happening inside. Jayne might not be a good man— might, in fact, be the sort of man who frequented houses of ill-repute and did things there that God did more than frown upon— but Mal was pretty sure he never mistreated the women he was with. Hell, now that Mal thought about it, the whores at the Heart of Gold had seemed pretty sweet on him, and a man needed some skills to make working girls like that think on him kindly. Mal knew all this, but left alone with his thoughts… yeah, he could imagine a lot of very bad things very quickly.

Still, he felt compelled to point out the obvious.

“And you’d be just dandy with me taggin’ along?” he asked Jayne, his voice heavy with disbelief.

Jayne shrugged.

“Never been particular shy, captain,” he said. “Don’t much care about that. But it would be kinda nice t’ have someone else t’ keep an eye on her, make sure she’s okay an’ all. I can’t always catch her drift, all them big words and complicated ideas. Usually I just ignore what I can’t understand, but this doesn’t seem like th’ time t’ be skippin’ over anything. You get how her head works, you can figure out if she needs somethin’ or gets scared. ‘Sides, if we’re all there, it’ll be less like we’re doin’ somethin’ t’ be ashamed of.”

Mal gaped at Jayne as though the other man had just professed a love of Classical music or begun reciting linear equations. He was pretty sure that he’d gone insane right along with River— maybe Alliance-induced brain damage was catching or something.

“Mal,” River said softly.

She so rarely addressed anyone directly these days that her quiet utterance captured his full and immediate attention. She was looking up at him calmly, and although her eyes weren’t quite focusing right, she seemed to be as much there as she was not-there, if that made any sense.

“What is it, Albatross?” he asked, chest clenching.

“Please,” she said slowly and carefully, “For me.”

Damnit, there it was. When it came down to it, there was nothing, no matter how _fēng le_ , that he wouldn’t do for her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[1] Snake’s ass rag

[2] Shoe heel

[3] FDR’s first inaugural speech

[4] African bush elephant

[5] Holy mother of Buddha


	3. Archangel's Blade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

The shuttle still smelled vaguely like Inara’s incense, although it was almost two years since she’d been in there to burn any. It was weird being in here now, seeing it stripped down to the bare bones: the bed, the table, the couch, all dull and functional without the rich fabrics to make them glitter. But the truth was, Mal had always kind of hated how he felt in here before, like his mere presence was enough break something.

The three of them stood awkwardly beside the low table looking at each other, not quite sure what to do. Mal had it very firm in his mind that his role here was strictly to support River, but the other two seemed to be waiting for him to take the lead— habit, probably, all of them so used to him being the captain that they forgot it could be any other way.

River seemed to realize this the same time he did. Well, more like she picked it up out of his head. Anyways, she flushed a little and looked at Jayne, biting her lip.

“Three guests at the ball,” she said shyly. “One not here to dance, another does not know the steps, third will have to lead.”

“Huh?” Jayne asked, glancing automatically at Mal.

“She’s sayin’ you need t’ take point, Jayne,” Mal said gruffly. “She don’t know what she’s doin’ an’ I’m not… well, _dancing_.”

“Oh,” Jayne said. “Alright, I get it now. See, that’s why I thought you bein’ here was a good idea. Woulda taken me forever t’ figure that out. Okay, well…”

He looked around, getting the lay of the land, then considered Mal and River like they were guns he was taking into a fire-fight.

“You okay bein’ closer to the… action?” Jayne asked. “It’s only, you touch her when you’re trying to calm her down and that seems to work real good, keeps her a little more in the here and now, so to speak.”

Mal swallowed heavily.

“Whatever she needs,” he said.

River gave him a small, wistful smile and he clenched his teeth.

 _Whatever you need little one, I swear, even if it kills me,_ he promised silently.

“Well, I’m thinkin’ if you hold her, at least at first, it might help,” Jayne said. “We’re all more’n a bit edgy right now, so I imagine she could use as much calm as she can get.”

“Okay,” Mal said, ruthlessly silencing the portion of his brain that was shrieking in scandalized indignation. “Where…”

“Couch,” Jayne said. “No sense rushin’ anything.”

Mal sat down on the couch, which suddenly felt even more uncomfortable than it had when it was all shiny and expensive and he had been sure he was going to leave stains on it. But then River was crawling into his lap and it felt so normal and nice that he forgot for a second how insanely wrong this whole situation was. He let out a breath and put his arms around her, burying his face in her hair and closing his eyes. They stayed like that for a long time and Jayne just hunkered down in front of them and waited patiently.

Finally, River shifted in Mal’s lap, turning so she was sitting with her back against his chest and his arms around her waist. Jayne cocked his head, silently asking permission, and when he got it, he slid forward onto his knees, putting him at just the right height to kiss her.

Holding River like he was, Mal could feel how she responded to the kiss. Within seconds, her heartbeat had sped up and her whole body had gone tense and quivery. Mal drew in his breath sharply and lowered his head to rest on her shoulder, trying to concentrate on her and not on the way her instantaneous arousal turned him on.

_Damn, girl has a hair-trigger._

Wo de ma _, cannot be thinkin’ things like that._

_You’re doin’ good, little one, you’re doin’ real good._

Jayne was taking his time, not rushing, letting her get her bearings, but when she whimpered against his mouth, he seemed to take that as his cue to try something new. Mal heard him shift, felt River arching her back, and heard her yip in surprise. Lifting his head, Mal could see that Jayne had a hand on her side, thumb rubbing just under her breast. She started moaning and he stopped kissing her enough to speak.

“You like that, baby girl?” he asked.

“Like” she gasped.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s see if you like this a bit more.”

He moved his hand so it covered her breast, rubbing her nipple softly with his thumb, and she practically arched out of Mal’s arms.

“ _Tā mā de_ ,” Mal swore in surprise.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

 _Sorry baby,_ he apologized mentally. _Just surprised me. You’re doin’ fine, better than fine, don’t change a thing._

He didn’t know if she was listening to his silent encouragement, but it was all he could think of to do for her.

Jayne, after meeting Mal’s eyes for a second to make sure everything was okay, went back to kissing River while still caressing her with his hand. Quicker than Mal would have believed possible, River went from aroused by the new level of contact to upset with there not being enough of it. She started squirming in his lap— and oh _hell_ that was not helping him at all— and making fretful little sounds that had Mal’s pulse speeding up like he’d been hit with a shot of adrenaline. How the hell Jayne, who had his mouth and hands on her, must have felt, Mal could only imagine, but judging by the strangled sound he made, the merc had just discovered a whole new level of hot and bothered. Jayne kept his head though, tried to stay calm and keep going slow, and in the end it was Mal who finally cleared his throat.

“Uh, Jayne?” he said. “Think she might be… uh ready for a change of scenery. Unless you want a real frustrated assassin on your hands.”

Jayne pulled back, breathing hard, and caught River’s chin so he could look her in the eye.

“What you think, Crazy Girl?” he asked, his voice half an octave deeper and a whole lot rougher than normal. “Mal right? You ready t’ go somewhere with a little more room?”

She didn’t speak, just nodded emphatically. Jayne smiled.

“Damn, girl” he said, “Told you those parts worked better’n fine.”

He stood up and held out his hand to her and she took it, sliding lightly off of Mal’s lap to stand beside him. Mal clenched his teeth, suppressing his body’s mutinous reaction to the loss, but he stayed put. She seemed to be doing fine, most likely didn’t need his help anymore.

River, however, seemed to have other ideas. She grabbed his hand, looking down at him with wide, lust-drenched eyes, and Mal suppressed a startled moan. Oh, this was all kinds a’ twisted. He hadn’t put that look there, he had no business responding to it.

She bit her lip.

“Is it wrong?” she asked.

 _Tā mā de_. Well, that answered his question about whether she was reading what he was telling her in his head. He set his jaw.

“No, darlin’” Mal said, taking her hand and standing up. “Nothin’s wrong. As long as you’re happy, everythin’ is just right.”

He’d make himself believe it, too, if it meant her smiling like she did when he said that.

 _Of course I’m respondin’ to the way she looks_ , he thought. _She’s beautiful, she’s feelin’ good, and she wants more. Nothin’ sexier than that, no matter who’s makin’ her that way._

After some awkward maneuvering and some setbacks with regards to boots, they ended up with Mal sitting up against the headboard and River’s head in his lap, her long, lithe body stretched out on the sheets. Jayne, moving surprisingly gracefully for such a big man, slid onto the bed beside her and started exploring her with his hands and mouth. Soon he had her trembling like a taut cable and whining deep in her throat. When he ran his palm up the pale skin of one long, graceful leg, she moaned with pleasure.

When he slid his hand under her skirt to touch her inner thigh, though, she gave a high-pitched, frightened cry and nearly came off the bed in surprise. Jayne froze.

“You alright, baby girl?” he asked.

Mal looked down at her face. Her eyes were wide and she was biting her lip, looking confused and a little scared. Jayne looked at Mal.

“I do somethin’ wrong?” he asked.

Mal took a deep breath.

“You okay, little one?” he said softly.

She bit her lip and met Mal’s eyes.

“Liked,” she said. “Liked… _very much_. Liking twofold. Like. Want. Liking and wanting. Exponential. Surprised.”

Mal felt himself flush.

“I don’t think you’re doin’ anything wrong, Jayne,” he said. “Maybe somethin’ a little too _right_. I think you, uh, well, I mean t’ say, I think she got hit with how much you were wantin’ her right about then, as well as how good you were makin’ her feel, and I guess she just wasn’t ready for it all at once.”

“Oh,” Jayne said, pulling his hand back, “Okay. Don’t want t’ scare you, baby girl. You just breath and tell me when you’re ready.”

_Damn, the man has more self-control than I ever woulda given him credit for._

After a minute, River took a deep breath and nodded and Jayne started rubbing her leg gently again.

“Girl,” he said, “You think maybe if you grab Mal’s hand for this, it might help a little?”

She nodded and reached blindly towards Mal.

 _Whatever you need, darlin’,_ Mal repeated in his head as he took her hand. _Whatever you need._

Her slim fingers gripped his tightly as Jayne’s hand slid up under her skirt again.

They gripped tighter as he started exploring her inner thigh.

And they almost broke his hand when he found what he was looking for.

After that things seemed to go unbelievably fast. One minute, she was gasping and arching into the first touch, the next, Mal was watching her come apart. Jayne let out a grunt of surprise, clearly not expecting her to come that quick or that hard.

“ _Shèng tā mā dì dìyù_ ,”[1] the mercenary swore.

She lay panting in Mal’s lap, eyes closed, teeth biting down hard on her lip, her hand still holding Mal’s in a death grip.

Jayne let her go and crawled up the bed to kiss her.

Mal pulled back as far as he could against the headboard at the sudden and unintentional invasion of his personal space, thinking _Well_ , this _is more’n a little awkward_.

 _No. Don’t go there_ , he scolded himself. _She’ll think she did something wrong and she didn’t. Just the opposite._

He refocused his thoughts.

 _That’s my girl,_ he told her, rubbing her hand with his thumb. _That’s my pretty girl, my genius girl. You’re doin’ so good. You’re good at everything you set your mind to, darlin’, this included. And_ we de ma, _you’re beautiful when you come. You got no idea how beautiful you are._

“See?” Jayne said, pulling back from her mouth. “Built t’ fly.”

She grinned up at him.

“Built to fly,” she repeated.

“Ready t’ loose th’ clothes?” Jayne asked.

She bit her lip and nodded.

Jayne looked up at Mal.

“Help her?” he asked, already sitting up and reaching for the back of his shirt.

Startled, Mal complied before he could really even think about it. He helped River sit up and fumbled with the zipper at the back of her dress, then lifted the garment gently over her head. He balked at the underwear, though, but luckily Jayne was already finished and came to his rescue, deftly undoing her bra— well, Jayne _would_ be an expert at that, wouldn’t he— and pushing her back against Mal so he could ease her panties down her long legs. Mal hissed in surprise as all that bare skin fell into his arms and concentrated real hard on telling her in his head how beautiful she was rather than thinking about the way his pants no longer fit at all right.

And, okay, they were back where they’d been a minute before and it looked like they were gonna do this with him right here and _wǒ de ma_ , she looked ten kinds of beautiful, and what the _hell_?

“You sure you want me here for this, Albatross?” he croaked, looking down at her in panic.

Her huge brown eyes met his, swimming with arousal and trust. She reached out her hand for his.

“Please,” she whispered.

He caved immediately, putting his fingers in hers without any more fuss, but he did look up at Jayne in silent question. The mercenary let out a breath.

“Hell yeah, I want you here Mal,” he said. “How worked up she got over me gettin’ just a little turned on… well, way I’m gonna be turned on when I actually get inside her, I think she’s gonna need you t’ hang onto her, keep her grounded. Figure it’s gonna be all kindsa strange, feelin’ all that, especially for the first time.”

Mal nodded.

 _Wo de ma, wǒ de ma, oh, Mother of_ fucking _God, this is wrong_ , he thought.

River shifted and made a sound of distress.

 _Sorry, darlin’,_ he thought, gulping in a couple of deep breaths and smiling tightly down at her. _Not wrong, just… ain’t never done anything like this before, it’s takin’ a bit of gettin’ used to. Don’t worry, you’re doin’ fine._

He took his other hand and stroked her shoulder, trying to concentrate on how gorgeous she was and how sexy it was that she came so quick and how beautiful her eyes looked all smoky with desire. He was concentrating so hard on her that he missed Jayne starting to touch her again until her eyes widened and she let out another of those little yips.

Jayne, apparently, had kissing skills that had nothing to do with a woman’s mouth.

She came even harder this time, arching off the bed with a cry and mumbling about gravitational collapse and nuclear fusion and the release of potential energy.

“ _Tián fú_ ,[2]” Mal breathed.

 _So hot, so hot, so_ fucking _hot._

Jayne blinked at Mal, a little stunned.

“... that good?” he asked, listening to her torrent of words.

“She’s babbling about exploding stars, Jayne,” Mal said, somewhat stunned himself. “If I were you, I’d take that as a compliment.”

“ _Wǒ de ma_ , girl, yer gonna kill me,” Jayne groaned.

He crawled back up the bed so he could look at her.

“Hey,” he said, “You with me, Crazy Girl?”

“Pair instability,” she whispered. “No remnant.”

“Oookay,” he said doubtfully. “How ‘bout we go for yes or no. You okay?”

She nodded.

“Ready for the next part? Easier when you’re all relaxed an’ wet like this, but if you need a minute…”

“Stars align,” she said.

“That a yes?”

She nodded again.

The mechanics took a little work, but with a pillow under River’s hips and Jayne kneeling between her legs, it all got squared away. Mal kept stroking her arm and telling her how beautiful she was and for a second it seemed like it was going to be fine.

Then Jayne pushed into her and all hell broke loose.

She got a look of shock on her face, then her eyes filled up with tears and she started twisting in Mal’s lap, trying to pull away from Jayne even though she had nowhere to go. Her free hand came up to her mouth as she made a wordless sound of protest.

“Oh _tā mā de_ ,” Mal said. “Jayne!”

Jayne froze with a vivid curse. His breathing was ragged and Mal could practically feel the tension rolling off of him.

“River, sweetheart, talk to me,” Mal said.

“Hurts,” River whimpered.

_Oh God._

Of course it hurt. She was tiny and Jayne was a big guy, it had to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.

“I know it,” Mal said, stroking her hair. “It’ll be better real soon, darlin’, I promise.”

How the hell did he know that? It wasn’t like he’d ever been with a virgin, for all he knew… _Shut up, Mal._

“Hurts,” River repeated, tossing her head. “Feels good. Hurts.”

She frowned.

“ _I_ hurt,” she said softly. “ _I_ hurt. _I_ feel good.”

She bit her lip and lifted her hips a little a little, gasping as the movement shifted things around. Jayne hissed, but stayed still. Her eyes widened in wonder.

“ _I feel_ ,” she breathed.

And then she arched her back and moved her hips against Jayne like she had been born knowing what to do, and hell, it was River, she probably had. And Jayne would have had to be a fucking _saint_ to keep still with her bucking up against him like that, and he was no saint, although he was a better man than Mal ever gave him credit for. And Mal couldn’t really form complex sentences anymore, so he just settled for an inner litany of _beautiful, beautiful, so_ fucking _beautiful._ And Jayne managed to make River come before he did, but was a damned close thing, and Mal would never admit it— well, River probably knew, but hopefully she was distracted— but he came before either of them, which was downright humiliating since, gorramit, he wasn’t technically even supposed to be dancing.

***

Jayne lay curled around River, holding her in his arms and watching her watch the door. The water in the shuttle was turned off, so Mal had gone to get what they needed to clean her up, and she was clearly waiting for him to come back. River hadn’t spoken since… well, since she’d given Jayne the best damned orgasm of his life, is how he remembered it, although how she remembered it, he had no idea. She was smiling, so it couldn’t be too bad, and she had pressed herself into his arms the minute Mal stood up, so she didn’t hate him or anything.

And, okay, there were some tears too, tiny glittering drops sliding down her cheeks without her even seeming to notice, and Jayne didn’t know _what_ to make of that. He knew he’d hurt her and he felt horrible about it. Also thankful that Mal had been there to talk to her and stroke her hair, because the way he’d been feeling right about then it was all he could do to just stay still. She was beautiful and she was responsive and she felt so _fucking_ good, his brain had pretty much shut down by that point. No way he’d of been able to say the right things or comfort her like she needed, even if he had any experience with that kind of thing, which he didn’t.

But she sure hadn’t _stayed_ hurting, at least, not just hurting, because pretty soon she’d started moving against him and _wǒ de ma_ , that girl could move. And she seemed to know exactly what she wanted, because just when he started feeling like he couldn’t hang on much longer, she’d shifted her hips a little and suddenly he’d been pushing right against her sweet spot and she’d been coming hard around him. That had been all he needed to push him over the edge and _tiánmì zhī shén_ ,[3] he’d never felt anything so good.

What he wanted most right now was to fall asleep. Preferably like this, with River pressed against him, breathing the scent of her hair and listening to her breathing. Was _not_ going to happen though, not until Mal got back and they made sure that River was okay. He couldn’t do that on his own, he would have no idea where to start, so he just held her and waited.

Finally— what had taken Mal so long, had he decided to test the water in every sink on the ship or something?— the shuttle door opened and River let out a sigh and relaxed a little in Jayne’s arms.

“Hey there, little one,” Mal said, coming to sit down on the be and reaching out to brush the hair out of her eyes. “How you doin’?”

She made a small, comfortable kind of sound, but didn’t say anything, just looked up at Mal with a smile on her lips and tears rolling down her cheeks. Mal looked at Jayne helplessly and Jayne shrugged, unable to tell the other man anything he couldn’t see for himself.

“Okay,” Mal said, looking rattled, but still talking real quiet and gentle. “Well, hows about we get you cleaned up, huh?”

He’d brought towels and a bowl of water and he tossed a couple of the towels to Jayne before turning back to River. Reluctantly, Jayne let go of the girl in his arms and slid off the bed. He cleaned up quickly and slid on his pants while Mal carefully washed River’s thighs and between her legs, looking for all the world like he did this kind of thing every day. Jayne had no idea how he could be so calm, washing cum— and _Christ_ , was that blood? _Wǒ de ma—_ off the girl’s skin when he hadn’t been the one to sex her, but that was Mal for you: got terrible worked up over the littlest things, but then was freaky calm in the most unsettling situations.

“You know, I’d feel a lot better if you could talk to me, little Albatross,” Mal said, setting the towels aside, “Tell me you’re alright.”

He leaned forward to stroke her hair. She smiled and made a sort of humming sound, moving her head against his hand in a _more_ kind of way. Jayne had seen cats act just like that and he wondered if maybe the humming was River’s way of purring.

Oh.

“Uh, Mal?” he said.

“Yeah,” Mal turned to look at him, all quiet alertness and coiled tension.

“I think she might just be… uh… well, ridin’ out th’ wave, y’ know?” Jayne said awkwardly.

“Say what?” Mal said. Not angry, just not getting it.

“Well, she’s kinda sleepy and she don’t wanna talk, but she’s smiling and all sorts of— well— _cuddly_ ,” Jayne muttered, refusing to look at Mal. “Kinda like… well, like some girls get right after, only it ain’t going away so quick.”

Mal’s eyes widened.

“You mean t’ tell me that this is th’ world’s longest afterglow?” he asked, his voice rising.

“Well, she’s River,” Jayne said, as though that explained everything, which it kind of did, in a way. “Crying’s new, but… “

“ _Shìjiè wúqíbùyǒu, érqiě hěn qíguài de shìqíng,_ ”[4] Mal muttered. “So what do we do?”

“I dunno, Mal,” Jayne said. “I ain’t… well girls like her aren’t ‘zactly my area of expertise, _dong ma_?”

He was making a joke— Mal was always ribbing Jayne about his habit of picking up casual trim when they were planetside, and those sorts of girls, whether they were pros or just women out looking for a good time, were exactly the opposite of River— but Mal took it really serious.

“Don’t think they’re anyone’s, Jayne,” he said quietly, looking down at River with a complicated expression on his face. “Only one of her in the ‘verse, as far as I know.”

River, meanwhile, seemed to be getting cranky. She had stopped smiling and was making a kind of petulant whining sound. She grabbed at Mal’s hand and when he gave it to her, she tugged on it with a puppy-dog look on her face. Mal looked at her blankly and Jayne let out a snort.

“I think she wants you t’ hold her, Mal,” he said. “Told you, she’s feelin’ cuddly.”

“Uh… well… okay then, I guess.”

Mal looked suddenly clueless, now that they had a non-dire read on the situation, and Jayne suppressed another snort. The captain kicked off his boots and lay down beside River on the bed and she burrowed into his chest, humming contentedly again.

“Guess you were right,” Mal said, rubbing River’s back and starting down at her in a perplexed kind of way.

Jayne suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself. River seemed to be settling into Mal like she was preparing to pass out and he wasn’t that far from passing out himself. He supposed he should go back to his own bunk, but something about that didn’t feel quite right.

 _Of course it doesn’t_ he thought to himself. _After lying there with her, nothin’ else is gonna feel right._

As if on cue— right, _reader_ — River lifted her head and looked at him. She frowned and held out a hand with a peremptory “ _Mmf_.”

“Looks like she’s not done with you yet either,” Mal said with a wry twist of his lips.

“What, she wants… I mean, you and her and… what… all three of us?” Jayne stuttered.

Mal raised his eyebrows.

“After what just took place here, _this_ is where you choose t’ make your stand on propriety?” he asked.

“Well, I mean… sexin’s one thing, Mal, but this… well, it’s kinda…” Jayne couldn’t figure out how to explain.

Mal got a look on his face, a sober, kind of sad look, the same look he got when he was watching someone get a bullet dug out of them or listening to Kaylee cry about the doc.

“My third tour, Zoe and I and about ten others got cut off from our platoon on this little iceball called Gong-yin,” he said. “Cold as a _nǚwū de zhēnfēngxiāngduì_ [5] and twice as mean. We kept gettin’ hit with these snow squalls, turned us about so bad we couldn’t figure out where we was, and all the time the enemy’s takin’ potshots at us. Anyways, there’s twelve of us holed up under some snowdrift that night, all piled on top of each other t’ keep warm, and Hertz— young kid, fresh off a good, God-fearing planet— starts giggling. Zoe asks him what’s so funny, and he says, ‘I got a girl back home and I never even spent th’ night with her. Now here I am with Cawley breathing in my ear and your behind in my lap.’ I thought Zoe was gonna break his neck for makin’ mention of her behind and its relative location, but her voice just got real soft and she said, ‘This is what friends do. They keep each other company and they keep each other alive. No shame in that.’ Kid slept like a baby that night. ‘Course he died five months later, never did get back to that girl a’ his.”

Mal trailed off and Jayne, who had sat down awkwardly on the bed while he listened to the story, looked at him and River and was glad, real glad, that River was all curled up against Mal for the usual reason, not because they were in the middle of a war zone. She was still watching him and now, with Mal gone all quiet, she repeated her wordless demand for him to join them. Jayne gave up and lay down beside her and immediately River grabbed his wrist and pulled him until he was where she wanted him, spooned up against her back. She laid back down on Mal’s chest and gave a satisfied sigh.

“Well now,” Mal said softly, “Will you look at that.”

Jayne closed his eyes, intending to just lie there and get used to this somewhat unsettling situation, but he was still pretty muzzy from the sex and tired from a long-ass day and before he knew it, he’d fallen asleep just like he’d wanted to, with River curled up in his arms.

***

The meet, as usual, had been set up at the ass-end of nowhere. Mal, Jayne, and River arrived early to scope it out and Mal felt cautiously optimistic about the location. Unlike most of their rendezvous spots, it wasn’t really set up for an ambush— open scrubland, not much cover, but not so flat you could be tagged by the Feds from miles away. River slipped off the mule as soon as they stopped, her bare feet graceful against the hard dirt. Mal could have sworn she’d been wearing shoes when they left the ship, but what the hell did he know? He’d been walking around in a daze for the last three days, trying to figure out what the hell had happened to his life.

She was wearing one of the disguises Kaylee had put together for her when she first started going on jobs, back when they still didn’t trust that her and Simon’s fugitive status had been revoked for real. It was pretty simple, just a long white shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders in such a way that it could mess up casual facial recognition software and a pair of mirrored glasses that deflected retinal scans. It had looked chic and sophisticated last time she’d worn it, but today, combined with her flowing red dress and bare feet, it made her look like some half-wild mystic.

“Sad,” River said, looking out across the scrub towards a low hill.

“You sad, darlin’?” Mal asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

He’d been waiting for the past three days for her to tell him how she felt about what had happened, but he was secretly dreading it. He really, really didn’t want to hear just how badly he had failed her.

“Sad monster,” River said.

Mal had figured out, somewhere along the line, that River usually responded to questions indirectly. He wasn’t sure why she couldn’t just say yes, no, maybe so, but he was getting used to it. ‘Monster wasn’t a word she usually used to refer to any of them, which, in River-speak, implied that she was talking about something else.

He heaved a breath of relief and swung himself out of the mule.

He hadn’t known what the hell to think or do since that night in the shuttle. He was near certain they’d damaged their little reader in some deep and profound way, though he didn’t know exactly what that way might be. She’d been acting different, not worse exactly, just different. She was quieter, less apt to go all wild and whimsical and more given to wandering off and hiding. During the day, that is. At night, she was very much present, present to the point of refusing to sleep in her own bed and insisting on bunking with either him or Jayne.

That was more than a little problematic in light of the fact that both he and Jayne had a powerful new awareness of her being… well… a sexy, responsive, drop-dead gorgeous young woman as well as a _feng le_ little assassin. Mal suspected that he must be just as bad a man as Shepherd Book had accused him of being, because he couldn’t get her out of his head even though he knew it was wrong to think of her that way. Having her in his bed that one night had been nothing short of torture and, when she’d demanded to sleep in Jayne’s bunk the next night, the other man’s pained request to shoot him and get it over with had confirmed that he was in pretty much the same predicament.

Needless to say, nobody except River was getting very much sleep.

“Don’t like this,” Jayne growled as he climbed out of the mule.

“What’s that, Jayne?” Mal asked.

“Looks too easy,” Jayne said. “How often does easy turn out well for us?”

“Are you criticizing our smooth-running and lucrative business operations?” Mal asked, scanning the horizon for anything that looked like it didn’t belong.

Jayne grunted.

There _really_ wasn’t enough cover for snipers, not close enough to the drop point to matter, unless their contact had one hell of a marksman. A flyover maybe? Park a bird behind one of those hills, come in low and fast once the deal was made. Air support always had been Mal’s downfall. Didn’t make a whole lotta sense, but, then, a double-cross rarely did.

“Feel anything behind those hills, Albatross?” he asked. “Ambush of any sort?”

She tilted her head back and spread her arms out.

“Empty slate, waiting to be written on,” she said. “Empty slate for an empty soul. Demons in the open, not lying in wait.”

Was that good or bad? No way to tell. Didn’t sound like an ambush at any rate.

“Shiny,” he said.

They settled in to wait, Mal and Jayne leaning against the mule, River walking to and fro like some sort of mad priestess, head cocked, bare feet picking their way delicately through the scrub.

“Damnit, Moonbrain,” Jayne snapped as one of her forays took her out of his line of sight, “Stay put! Can’t keep an eye on you if you keep wanderin’ like that.”

Jayne was terrible twitchy today.

 _Wonder why_ that _might be_ , Mal thought morosely. _I’m sure it has nothin’ to do with havin’ a gorram gorgeous, totally_ feng le _girl sleepin’ in his bunk last night and not bein’ able t’ do anything about it._

It was a measure of the change in his and Jayne’s mutual understanding that Mal didn’t question that the mercenary _hadn’t_ done anything about it. Mal trusted him to take care of River.

 _You sure that she wouldn’t be better ‘taken care of’ if he_ did _do something?_ a truly evil little voice whispered in Mal’s ear. _She got a powerful enjoyment out of almost everything he did to her that night, and it seems a shame to deny her that kinda pleasure when she’s so good at taking it._

_Oooh, Malcolm Reynolds, you are goin’ to the special hell._

“Some battles cannot be won,” River said, halting her pacing and turning her shielded gaze on them. “Does that mean they should not be fought? Manner of the surrender is important, but the inevitable cannot be put off forever.”

“ _Lā shǐ_ ,”[6] Mal swore. “We got some sort of no-win situation here, little one?”

“Can’t stop it,” River said, her voice sad. “Will fight anyway though, can’t help it. But must know when to give up. Otherwise he will destroy what he is trying to save.”

“We don’t get paid, we’re kinda humped here,” Mal said. “Don’t think givin’ up is an option.”

“Different song,” River said, shaking her head impatiently. “It’s not what you think. Filthy lucre is secure.”

She turned away and began tracing out a complex pattern on the ground with her bare toes.

Mal should have been thrilled. He’d finally gotten a more or less clear answer out of her and it was good news: their payoff was safe.

So why did he still feel so damned edgy?

Because there was a lot of ways for the payoff to be safe and everything else to go to hell, that’s why. And he was overdue to get shot. It had been a couple of months now.

Also, that meant that there was a _different_ impossible battle to be fought somewhere down the line. Shiny, just shiny.

When River lifted her head and pointed towards the hills, Mal didn’t see anything at first. It took almost a minute for the dust shimmer to appear and another two minutes before he could make out the vehicles approaching. But when he did…

 _“Dà xīngxīng xìngxiàn_ ,”[7] Jayne swore.

Mal had to agree.

There were _three_ skimmers coming towards them across the scrublands. Considering that the cargo they were delivering was three medium-sized crates, that seemed like… overkill.

“ _Tā mā de_ ,” Mal said, unclipping his holster. “Jayne, River.”

Jayne already had his rifle off his back and River moved to stand beside him, hand going beneath the flowing white fabric of her shawl to rest on her pistol. Mal stepped forward, putting on his careless criminal face.

The skimmers skidded to halt in a semi-circle in front of the mule and Mal got an excellent opportunity to count just how badly they were outgunned as one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, _ten_ armed guards hopped out of the first two skimmers. Once the flurry of movement was over, two men wearing fancy Core clothes got out of the third skimmer and started forward, the gunmen moving with them in a way that proved they weren’t just some hicks carrying automatics for show.

Damn. River had said this wasn’t the fight they were supposed to lose, but the odds looked pretty stacked against them. Mal could hear Zoe’s voice in his head and wasn’t really at all surprised when he heard his first mate’s low tone and deadpan inflection come out of River’s mouth.

“ _Thanks for the reenactment, Sir_.”

The firing squad stopped about four yards from the mule and Mal looked at the two fancy fellows. One was thin and twitchy, with a nervous tick underneath his left eye, and the other was tall and elegant, with a melancholy expression on his refined face.

“Malcolm Reynolds?” the twitchy guy said, eyeing Mal with distaste.

Mal smiled blandly.

“That’s me,” he said. “And which of you fine gentlemen would be Nico Anapoulos?”

The melancholy one regarded Mal sadly for a moment, then inclined his head slightly.

“Mr. Reynolds,” he said in a deep, desolate voice

Now, Mal had extensive experience with criminals. You had your excitable criminals, your brash criminals, your mean criminals, your brown-nosing criminals, your loner criminals, your scared-shitless criminals, even, occasionally, your honorable criminals. He had dealt with all of them, knew, for the most part, how to handle them. But he had to say, he’d never had to deal with a melancholic criminal before.

“Sad monster,” River murmured.

Well, that cleared _that_ up, which was kind of nice. Although ‘monster’ didn’t sound good. Mal rested his hands on his gunbelt.

“You have our merchandise?” Twitchy snapped.

“That I do,” Mal said. “You have my payment?”

“We do,” said Anapoulos in a distant, uninterested sort of way. “But I don’t think we’re going to give it to you. We outnumber you five to one.”

Mal couldn’t help it, he let out a surprised bark of laughter.

“What?” he said, “You’re not even gonna pretend to play nice? I’m hurt. When a man’s aimin’ to double cross me, usually he has th’ good manners to lie to me about it.”

In his head, he took note of the fact that Anapoulos wasn’t counting River in his assessment of the odds. It pissed Mal off a little—did he look like the kind of man who brought little girls to a meet for fun?—but it was probably to their advantage. Always nice to have surprise on their side.

“Why should I pretend?” Anapoulos asked indifferently. “We are criminals and I have the advantage. Hypocrisy wearies me, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Well, ain’t that refreshing,” Mal said sourly.

“Dante placed the hypocrites below the murderers in Hell.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to River, who had moved softly to stand behind Mal’s shoulder and was regarding Anapoulos intently from behind her mirrored glasses. Mal suppressed the urge to groan. Jayne, having no such reservations, let out a string of curses.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Mal muttered.

“What the hell?” Twitchy snarled.

Anapoulos gazed at River, appearing to be mildly interested in the proceedings for the first time.

“You know the classics, my dear?” he asked.

“Mr. Reynolds, what is this?” Twitchy said, seemingly outraged that Mal had had the bad manners to bring a ninety pound girl with bare feet and an eccentric outfit to his boss’s double-cross.

Mal smiled grimly, although he gut was clenching. He had no doubt that River had a plan, but the way the last three days had gone, that wasn’t all that reassuring. The girl’s sense of what was a good idea and what wasn’t was clearly a bit off.

“This is your boss stirring up a whole world of trouble that I do not need today,” Mal told Twitchy irritably. “Darlin’, don’t suppose there’s any way you could leave these nice double-dealin’ gentlemen alone?”

“The tide does not turn back unless confronted by sufficient elevation,” River said. “Not in its nature.”

“Damn,” Mal said, looking at Anapoulos and shrugging. “Your funeral.”

“Who are you, my dear?” Anapoulos asked, ignoring Mal.

“Not relevant,” River said.

“Oh, but you must allow me to be curious,” Anapoulos said. “You are not what one expects to find in the company of… well, the likes of Mr. Reynolds.”

River laughed, a cool little laugh that gave Mal goosebumps.

“Get what you expect too often,” she said. “Not good for the soul.”

The tall, elegant man actually started, his eyes widening as he stared at her.

“Sir,” Twitchy hissed to Anapoulos, “We’re wasting time.”

Anapoulos held up an imperious hand and Twitchy backed off.

“Are you my priestess then?” he said to River.

River shook her head.

“I am _Serenity_ ,” she said.

Mal drew in a breath and his heart rate spiked. He remembered when she had told Jubal Early that she was the ship. He usually tried not to think about it, since it made him ten kinds of bothered in ways he didn’t want to consider too closely.

“Serenity?” Anapoulos said. “I don’t understand.”

“Angel,” River said. “Savior, but not yours. Destroyer, if you hurt my crew. Messenger, if you are willing to listen.”

“And what is your message?” Anapoulos asked, a weird sort of light in his eyes.

“That miracles do exist,” River replied.

Then everything went into slow motion.

River touched Mal’s shoulder and breathed, “Kiss the dirt.”

Instinctively, he dropped to the ground, yelling “Jayne, down!” as a whole lot of bullets cut the air over his head.

He looked up, heart in his throat, to see River coming up out of a graceful roll right in front of Anapoulos and Twitchy. Mal knew, intellectually, what River could do when she wanted to, but he was never really prepared for it. She moved like her namesake, all fluid grace and gentle strength. The guards turned their weapons towards her, since she was the one going for the boss, but she was too close to Anapoulos for them to risk firing; Mal took the opportunity to scramble back to the mule. Jayne was already there, cursing so vividly Mal thought his ears might spontaneously combust. Before either of them could get so much as a single shot off, River kicked Twitchy in the throat and grabbed Anapoulos’s wrist and spun him around with his arm twisted up behind his back. Somewhere along the line she’d drawn her pistol and now she held it to Anapoulos’s head.

She cocked the trigger and everything froze.

River spoke, her voice clear and cool as water.

“This is the miracle,” she said. “Will you accept it, or will you die still trapped in the darkness?”

The look on Anapoulis’s face was disturbing in the extreme, although Mal couldn’t really define it. It almost looked like… _hope_?

“Don’t shoot,” he breathed to his men. “Do _not_ shoot.”

They lowered their weapons.

Mal shook himself and stood up, gesturing to Jayne to follow him. He walked forward, Jayne a step behind him, and regarded the gunmen with cold eyes.

“Weapons down,” he barked.

The easy-going criminal was gone. He was Sergeant Reynolds now, Balls and Bayonets brigade, the highest ranking officer to come out of Serenity Valley alive, and they were just kids playing with pop-guns.

The weapons were on the ground in an instant.

“Now back up,” Mal ordered.

He didn’t draw his gun— Jayne looked intimidating enough for both of them with that rifle— he just stood there with a steely look on his face, like a man who expected to be obeyed. The erstwhile gunmen backed up.

Mal’s attention turned to Anapoulos.

“Payment,” he said, “Now.”

“The money is in Karakos’s jacket,” Anapoulos said softly, pointing his free hand at Twitchy, who was lying on the ground choking.

Mal looked at what he took to be the most experienced among the gunmen, a middle-aged guy with a steady hand who had clearly been around enough to know that heroics were not the way to make it to retirement.

“You,” he said, jerking his chin at him. “Get it.”

The guy obeyed, walking slowly, aware that Jayne was tracking his movements with the barrel of the rifle. He knelt down beside the writhing Karakos and reached into his jacket, never taking his eyes off Mal. After a brief, fumbling search, his hand came out holding a bag.

“Throw it over here, nice and easy,” Mal said.

The man stood up carefully and tossed the bag to Mal, who caught it without changing expression.

“Jayne,” Mal said.

With a wordless grow, Jayne put the safety back on the rifle and slung it over his shoulder. The disarmed gunmen flinched, clearly unnerved that Mal was so certain of the situation that he wasn’t even going to keep a weapon trained on them. Mal kept his eyes on Anapoulos as Jayne went back to the mule, lifted the crates out, and set them on the ground.

“Now,” Mal said, “You’re men are going to take Twitchy there and get into those skimmers real slow.”

The gunmen looked at Anapoulos.

“Do it,” he said quietly.

They did, picking up the gagging Karakos and backing slowly towards the skimmers. They began to climb into the vehicles and soon only guy with the steady hands was left on the ground.

“Wait,” River said.

She hadn’t moved this whole time, had just stood with her pistol pointed at Anapoulos’s head, holding his wrist up between his shoulder blades. Her scarf had slipped back, revealing her wild, dark hair, but somehow the tinted glasses had stayed on her face.

“Albatross?” Mal asked.

“Witness,” River said. “Brings faith to the unbelievers.”

Mal clenched his teeth. That girl was going to be the death of him.

“You!” he barked.

The unfortunate henchman froze.

“You stay,” Mal said. “Jayne, if he moves, shoot him.”

Jayne had returned to stand behind him and now he pulled his rifle back off his shoulder, aiming it at the hapless gun hand.

“The rest of you,” Mal said, “Get gone. If you stop while I can still see you, there will be bloodshed of a kind you will never see this side of hell.”

The three skimmers left and Mal watched patiently until they were out of sight before nodding to River. She released Anapoulos and he turned sharply, gazing at her with a hungry look in his eyes.

“Who are you?” he said. “ _What_ are you?”

River looked up at Anapoulos with tender compassion.

“I told you,” she said. “I am _Serenity_. Savior, destroyer, messenger. Angel.”

Something in the man snapped. He grabbed her by the shoulders and Jayne cursed, shifting the gun from the henchman to the boss.

“ _What does that mean_?” Anapoulos screamed, shaking her.

Before Jayne could get a clean shot, River’s hand was on the man’s throat. He stared down at her with wide, demented eyes as she slowly cut off his airway, forcing him to release his grip on her.

“Wrong question,” she said calmly. “Know what angels are. Should be asking why I’m here.”

She stepped forward so that their bodies were practically touching and put her gun underneath his chin.

“Angels don’t come because those who call them are righteous,” she said. “Come because they want to, because there’s nowhere else in the ‘verse they can go.” She moved the barrel of the gun, tracing it delicately down the man’s throat and across his chest until it rested over his heart. “Love,” she murmured, pressing the gun against his chest for emphasis. “ _Serenity_ does not protect out of duty. She protects out of love.”

River released her grip on Anapoulos’s throat, but he barely seemed to notice. His eyes were locked on her face and he was actually shaking. She reached down and seized his right wrist, raised his hand, and placed the barrel of her gun against his palm.

“Can’t take back what you did,” she said gently. “And you can’t just walk away unscathed. Wouldn’t be right.”

She fired.

The pistol was a Doucette, a powerful little weapon that was known for being quick and clean. The bullet went through Anapoulos’s hand without a fuss, leaving nothing but a neat little hole. His face went grey with pain, but he didn’t make a sound. He stood staring down at River for a moment, then dropped to his knees, his wrist still gripped in her delicate hand, his blood dripping down over her fingers.

“Like I said,” she murmured, “Savior, but not yours. Doesn’t matter though.” She released his wrist and brushed her bloody fingertips across his forehead in a bizarre sort of benediction. “A savior isn’t what you need.”

She turned her back on him and walked away. Anapoulos closed his eyes and, to Mal’s surprise and horror, started crying like a baby. River kept walking right past Mal and Jayne and climbed into the mule. Still dumb with shock, they followed her and the three of them drove away while Nico Anapoulos knelt in the dirt, cradling his wounded hand in his lap and sobbing like he’d lost everything he held dear in the world. As soon as they were out of sight of the drop point, River collapsed, slumping forward in her seat like a rag doll. Jayne caught her just before she slid to the floor.

***

“What in the hell happened back there?” Mal asked as he piloted _Serenity_ out of the world with a less than steady hand.

Jayne was sitting in the co-pilot’s chair, his gun still on his back and River clutched in his arms. She was conscious, but she hadn’t said anything since they’d left the drop point, just let Jayne hold her as they drove back to the boat, locked up, and fired up the engines. Now she spoke, although her singsong intonation was slightly terrifying.

“Brother,” she said, “Beloved brother. Shot him through the chest.” Her face crumpled. “Meant to do it, didn’t know until too late how it would feel. Prayed for a miracle, but it didn’t come. Dared God to strike him down, monster born of grief and guilt, hoping for something to stop him.”

She curled into Jayne’s chest, and started to cry, painful, gut-wrenching sobs that wracked her entire body.

“ _Shèng tā mā de_ ,”[8] Jayne said.

He looked at Mal helplessly, clearly asking what he should do, but Mal had no clue. Jayne stroked River’s back clumsily, his big hands gentle, but uncertain.

“ _Vengeance is mine, I will repay_ ,”[9] River sobbed into Jayne’s shirt. “Never wanted it, not mine! Archangel’s blade, a weapon, not a person! Not whole!”

“You listen to me, little Albatross,” Mal said sternly. “You’re a person if ever there was one, takes more’n givin’ one double-crossin’ _húndàn_ a bitty bullet hole t’ change that.”

“Atoms,” River said, twisting her fingers into Jayne’s shirt, “Molecules. Fluids and signals. Bone. Blood. Steel. What am I?”

“That’s easy,” Jayne said. “Ye’re a girl is what you are. A pretty, _feng le_ killer girl. Real smart, too. Damn annoying when you want t’ be. And sexy as… ”

He glanced at Mal and stopped abruptly.

“ _Feng le_ killer girl,” River repeated.

It wasn’t the description Mal would have chosen, but it did have a certain elegant simplicity about it.

“Crazy. Killer. Girl,” River murmured. “Contradiction, cannot be modelled mathematically. How can the killer and a girl coexist?”

“Ain’t a one of us sittin’ here who’s not a killer, little one,” Mal said. “Don’t make us any less human. Sad truth is, people have been killin’ each other just as long as they’ve had hands t’ do it with. It’s settlin’ differences without killing that seems t’ be th’ more difficult part. You got ways of dealin’ out death and mercy that most don’t have, but dealin’ in death and mercy is th’ most human thing there is. And you chose mercy today, which makes you a better human than most.”

“Not natural,” River whispered. “Not normal. Aberration. Freak. Monstrosity.”

They’d broken atmo and Mal had a few minutes before the next burn, so he locked the helm and went over to crouch down beside the co-pilot’s chair.

“Well then,” he said, gently turning her face so he could look her in the eye, “It’s a good thing you’re on _Serenity_ , isn’t it? This is where all the freaks and monsters go, didn’t you know that? Those as don’t fit nowhere else in the ‘verse end up here and _Serenity_ takes ‘em in and keeps ‘em safe because they’re hers. Remember what you told that _wū wū de_ _wángbā dàn_ [10] back there? _Serenity_ don’t protect us because we’re righteous, she protects us because she loves us. I reckon she loves you with a powerful will, little one. You’re her Albatross, her good luck, and she’ll hang onta you ‘til the worlds fall outa the sky.”

“ _Yeah she’s a witch, but she’s our witch_ ,” River whispered.

“Damn right,” Mal said.

River took a deep breath and settled further into Jayne’s arms, leaning her head against his chest.

“Protect, like _Serenity_ ,” she murmured. “Keep her captain and her guard-dog safe, find her healers and her Valkyrie.”

“That’s right, little one,” Mal said, stroking her hair. “That’s right.”

She heaved a sigh and closed her eyes. When it became clear she didn’t plan to open them again any time soon, Mal shot Jayne an apologetic look.

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t realize she was gonna just… “

“‘Sokay, Cap’n,” Jayne said. “If you can just help me get this gorram gun off my back so’s I can sit down proper, I’ll be fine.”

Mal removed the offending weapon, then returned to the helm as Jayne leaned back with a relieved sigh. As they passed by one of Harvest’s moons on the way out of the system, Jayne broke the silence.

“What’d you mean, Captain, when you said those on _Serenity_ didn’t fit nowheres else?” he asked.

Mal was a little startled, but her covered for it by double checking the computer.

“Well,” he said, “Seems to me, folk end up on this boat because the rest of the ‘verse don’t want ‘em. Me’n Zoe’re pretty obvious, o’ course, the Alliance didn’t leave a lot of options open for us, even after we was released.”

“Whadya mean, released?” Jayne asked. “War ended with Serenity Valley, I always assumed everyone just went home.”

Mal snorted.

“You think they’d just let us walk away from the Battle of Serenity?” he said. “We thumbed our noses at them and then made ‘em look all manner of stupid. Weren’t many of us made it out, but those that did, well, weren’t nobody interested in just letting us go. They put us in a prison camp, kept us there for near on a year until some politician somewheres decided to release us as a goodwill gesture. All for show, of course, since they put so many restrictions on where we could live and what we could do that it was almost like we was still prisoners. That’s why I bought this boat in the first place, a way to sneak out from under th’ boot they had planted on our necks.”

Jayne took a moment to digest this, then nodded, accepting it in that straightforward way he had, no need to judge or be concerned, just adjusting his knowledge to fit the new information.

“What about th’ rest of us?” he asked. “I get the crazy girl and the doc, them bein’ fugies an’ all, but me’n Kaylee, we coulda ended up anywheres. Always folk lookin’ for a hired gun and Kaylee, well, sunshiny little thing like that’d be welcomed anywheres in the ‘verse, I should think.”

“Kaylee ever tell you how she ended up here?” Mal asked.

“Yeah,” Jayne said. “Was gettin’ it on with th’ old mechanic in th’ engine room.”

“That’s right,” Mal said. “Bester said he brought her on board because engines made her more inclined to put out. Girl has a natural-born talent an’ she sold herself out like that just t’ get a look at our beat-up old accelerator core. Th’ ‘verse was all set t’ suck up her sunshine and never give her a chance t’ do what she did best. As for you, well, I own, when you came on, you didn’t need us, but you’ve changed since then. Don’t reckon the ‘verse has much use for an honorable merc these days.”

“Honorable?” Jayne said, clearly horrified. “Who you callin’ honorable?”

Mal’s mouth twitched.

“Jayne, I ain’t paid you in a month,” he said. “Every penny we’ve made since D’Aria has gone into the ship or has been used t’ look for our crew. So why’re you still here?”

“Can’t leave you an’ Crazy all on your lonesome, Cap’n” Jayne protested. “You wouldn’t last a week, never mind get Kaylee, Zoe, and the doc back.”

“So you’ve been workin’ for me for free because it’s th’ right thing t’ do?” Mal said.

“ _Érzi hàosè shānyáng hé yīgè fēngkuáng de mǔgǒu_ ,”[11] Jayne spat as he realized what Mal was getting at.

Mal gave up the struggle and laughed.

“It’s alright,” he said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Better not,” Jayne muttered, shifting in his chair. “Honorable my ass.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[1] Holy fucking hell

[2] Sweet Buddha

[3] Sweet God

[4] The world is full of wonders, but also very weird things

[5] Witch’s tit

[6] Shit

[7] Gorilla gonads

[8] Holy fuck

[9] Romans 12:19

[10] Son of a whining bitch

[11] Son of a randy goat and a rabid bitch


	4. Scales and Symphonies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

Jayne woke up to the feeling of a soft body pressed up against his. He lay there, eyes closed, enjoying the unusual sensation. He didn’t normally spend the night with a woman— prostitutes didn’t much like it and good-time-girls tended to misunderstand it— so waking up with a warm, cuddly body in his arms was something of a novelty, although he had a vague idea it had happened more than once recently. He didn’t want to think about it too hard, because he kinda suspected that the minute he remembered what was going on, he’d have to let go of the girl, and gorram it, he didn’t want to.

With a sound that was half growl and half moan, he buried his face in the girl’s neck and inhaled her sweet, musky scent. His arms tightened around her and his hands automatically began seeking her skin. Gorram it, why was she wearing a dress? That just seemed wrong, a totally needless complication. He set out to get around the obstacle and girl moaned as one hand found the hem of her skirt and slid it up her thigh. She pressed back against him and he hissed as her butt came up hard against his normal male response to the whole waking-up-with-a-woman-in-his-arms thing. Without thinking, he pushed back against her and she made a soft little whining sound that was so sexy it made him want to just push into her right then and there.

His eyes slid open of their own accord and he had half a second to enjoy the sight of pale skin, dark hair, and the curve of a flushed cheek before full awareness came crashing over him like a wave of cold water. He jerked back with a sharp curse.

“ _Tā mā de_. Sorry girl.”

 

***

 

Mal had been lying on his back with his eyes closed, listening to River and Jayne breathing and wondering how the hell he’d ended up back here again.

River had seemed okay yesterday, all things considered. Really quiet, even after she woke up from her nap on the bridge and let Jayne go clean up, but not throwing a fit or sobbing in the corner. But she hadn’t really wanted to let either one of them out of her sight for that long, getting agitated when Jayne decided to grab them food and didn’t come back right away and becoming downright fretful when Mal went to go check on the engine. When they reached clear space and Mal finally put _Serenity_ on autopilot for the night, she’d gotten a mulish expression on her face and had grabbed both his and Jayne’s hands before either one of them could head for their bunks. With silent determination, she’d dragged them to the shuttle and hadn’t let go of either of them until she had them in the bed, one on either side of her. Mal had wanted to protest, but after the day they’d had, he didn’t have the heart. The girl deserved whatever sort of comfort they could give her, even if it was all kinds of torturous to lie there with her head on his chest, unable to think about anything except how gorram gorgeous she looked naked.

A muffled masculine groan followed by a feminine whine pulled Mal out of his musings and caused him to turn his head sharply. He had time to take in River’s wide eyes and flushed cheeks and Jayne’s wandering hands before the mercenary’s eyes opened and he let out a startled curse.

“Sorry girl,” he said to River, and Mal realized that he had only just figured out who he’d been caressing.

Because Mal was looking anxiously at River, trying to determine what kind of trauma Jayne’s inadvertent molestation might be causing her, he got to see her roll her eyes in exasperation before she grabbed one of Jayne’s big hands and pulled it forcibly up to her breast. Jayne let out a strangled yelp of surprise and Mal started violently.

“Enough,” she said firmly. “Wild horses pulling in opposite directions, action and thought ripping everything apart. Thought won’t be reined in, so action must run with it.”

Jayne tried to free his hand from her grasp, but she retaliated by squirming against him which must’ve been all sorts of uncomfortable in his current situation. He let out a desperate sort of sound and stopped moving, pressing his face into her hair in an apparent effort to hang onto his self-control. Knowing just how good her hair smelled, Mal suspected having his face there wasn’t going to help him one bit.

“Whoa there, little Albatross,” Mal said, finding his voice at last. “Just because we’ve been havin’ some… thoughts along certain lines ain’t any reason for you to be doin’ this. You ain’t been yourself since last time as it is.” His voice softened. “Don’t want t’ hurt you any more than we have, darlin’, no matter what fool things is wanderin’ through our heads.”

She gave Mal a glare that would have stripped rust off the hull.

“Not _me_ who is reacting badly,” she said. “Moral conundrums of others are monopolizing my cranial capacity to an unacceptable degree.”

Mal covered his face with his hands and groaned.

“What’d she say?” Jayne asked plaintively, his voice muffled by her hair.

“She said that us being so, ah, _edgy_ is why she’s been acting oddly these last few days,” Mal replied. “Sorry, darlin’, should of realized you’d be pickin’ up on that.”

“Well what th’ hell else were we gonna be?” Jayne asked, aggrieved. “It was okay before, but now she’s… now we’ve seen… well, ain’t no forgettin’ a thing like that.”

“Difficulty does not stem from altered parameters,” River said impatiently. “Problem is Schrodinger’s bag, not Schrodinger's cat. Trying to stuff an unwilling feline back into a bag that does not exist,” she looked at Mal earnestly, “Battle that cannot be won,” she said.

That got Mal’s attention. He rolled on his side so he could look her in the eye.

“You sayin’ I need t’ let you do this, little Albatross?” he said seriously.

“Albatross is not a pet bird,” she replied, just as serious, “Cannot be put in the cage, kept safe behind bars. Keeping it captive is worse than killing it, brings bad luck threefold.”

Mal sucked in a breath.

“Okay,” he said, “You’re right, it’s your choice. But are you sure this is something _you_ want, not just something you’re reading out of our heads?”

She gave him the ‘you boob’ look.

“Have already established my aptitude for flying,” she said. “Is it so incomprehensible that I would desire to do something I am exceptionally proficient at?”

Jayne groaned again and Mal closed his eyes.

“Guess not,” Mal said, his voice strangled.

She grasped his hand in hers.

“Will all be okay,” she assured him, her voice low. “Stay with me and see.”

He opened his eyes again and met her liquid brown gaze, forcing himself not to look anywhere else.

“Whatever you need, little one,” he said.

She smiled.

“Not yet,” she said cryptically. “Soon.”

***

 

If there was a hell, Jayne thought, it couldn’t be much worse than this, lying with his hand pressed against River’s breast and her behind nestled into his lap while she argued with the captain about whether she should sex him or not. Jayne had known since that night in the cockpit that her using all those big words to talk about sex turned him on, but now that she was using those big words to say how much she wanted to _have_ sex… _God_.

Still, even when she settled the issue with Mal, it didn’t seem right to just… well… start sexing her without her telling him directly that it was okay. So he lifted his head out of her hair and struggled to find his voice.

“You sure about this, girl?” he asked hoarsely.

River, who had been lying face to face with Mal having some sort of stare-down, turned her head and smiled up at him.

“ _No shame in likin’ what feels good_ ,” she said. “Learned that from you, Jayne Cobb. You in me, feels good. Stop worrying.”

God, she was lucid today, he hadn’t even had to try to understand that. Lucid and saying things that were guaranteed to make him crazy.

 _Ta ma de_.

With a wordless groan, Jayne tightened his hand on her breast and lowered his head to kiss her neck. She turned back to Mal, tightening her grip on the captain’s hand and whimpering, and Mal, the gorram steel-nerved _hundan_ , just lay there staring into her eyes even though he had to be near coming out of his skin at the sounds she was making.

She deserved a long, slow buildup, but Jayne didn’t think he could hang onto his sanity long enough for that. He needed to at least make sure he didn’t hurt her, though, so he slid his hand down her side and across her ass to feel between her thighs. He sent a heartfelt thanks to Buddha, because she was already wet, but she was still tight, so _tā mā de_ tight. He slid a finger into her and gasped as her muscles clamped down and she let out a little soft cry. And now he _really_ wasn’t going to be able to hang onto his self-control much longer, so he pushed a second finger in even though she probably wasn’t ready and started rubbing the spot he knew from last time would make her come. And sure enough, she started falling apart even before she’d fully accepted the second finger, moaning as her muscles spasmed uncontrollably and her body turned liquid.

At that point, it was all over.

“Sorry, baby doll,” he gasped, pulling his hand out of her and unfastening his pants with unseemly haste. “Gotta be inside you.”

 Kissing her neck, he thrust into her warm, wet, impossibly tight body and shuddered as she yelped and writhed against him. He heard a startled curse from Mal and knew that, if she started crying again, the captain would probably kill him for being too rough, but she felt so good he was having trouble caring. And she was panting and pushing back into him, so it didn’t seem like she was too unhappy, even if she was still a little too tight. And then he couldn’t think about anything at all except for slick heat and soft skin and breathless moans and, finally, blinding, beautiful oblivion.

 

***

 

Mal sat on the bridge staring out into the black and trying to ignore the itch in his veins.

Despite what had happened the first time, Mal knew that he was not the kind of man who could content himself with just… well… _watching_. He was more of a hands-on kind of person, although in this particular situation he was keeping it very clear in his head that Jayne was the only one who was going to have his hands on River. There were good, solid reasons for that. This was already dubious enough, with him essentially giving Jayne his blessing to have his way with River any time she asked for it…

And okay, even in his own head, he could see that he was being a little unreasonable, since it was _her_ who was doing the asking.

Jayne sure wasn’t complaining though.

But still, what kind of sick _hundan_ would he be if he asked her for the same thing? Even if she said yes, it would be… well, it would be taking advantage and he wasn’t going to do that.

When the wave alert went off, he was initially relieved to have a distraction, but when he leaned forward and flipped the switch, his relief turned abruptly to panic as he was confronted by the sight of Inara’s perfect face on the screen.

“Inara,” he said blankly, wondering whether Shepherd Book were on high somewhere punishing him. It just wasn’t right to be confronted by her, of all people, while he was wrestling with his… inappropriate desires for a crazy nineteen-year-old girl who he had just allowed to bed his mercenary.

While he watched.

_Gah._

_Keep it together,_ he told himself sternly.

“Mal,” she said, her voice warm and filled with concern. “How are you holding up?”

_Oh God, she knows._

_No she doesn’t, she’s talking about the fact that half your crew is being held prisoner. She can’t possibly know what’s happening on_ Serenity _, even with that fancy Companion training in sex and body language._

“Still flyin’,” he said, shrugging.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Inara said with a warm smile. “Listen, I have some information for you. It’s not much, but maybe it will help.”

“Anything you’ve got is more than what we have right now, which is nothing,” Mal said, pushing aside his discomfort and leaning forward.

“A client of mine works in Interplanetary Law handling human rights cases,” Inara said. “He told me that there’s a group of lawyers who are trying to help those who were arrested on D’Aria. The only thing they’ve been able to accomplish so far has been obtaining information for family member on whether their loved ones are alive and, in some cases, where they’re being held. They haven’t been able to get the authorities to let the families talk with prisoners and they haven’t even tried to get anybody released yet, but still, it’s more than anybody else has been able to do.”

Mal felt his heart leap and ruthlessly forced himself to remain calm.

“If I can find out where they are, ain’t gonna need no fancy lawyers to get them out,” he said roughly. “You talk to these people yet?”

“I called them, yes,” Inara said. “But Mal, so far they are only assisting immediate family. They’re trying to protect their actions under existing human rights laws, which means that they can give information to family members because not to do so would cause undue suffering to innocent bystanders. However, that doesn’t extend to anyone else, so they couldn’t tell me anything.”

“Okay,” Mal said. “Well then, you send me the contact details and I’ll call them myself.”

“Mal, I know how you feel about your crew,” Inara said, her voice soft with concern, “But I don’t think that the Alliance recognizes ‘captain’ as a familial relationship.”

Mal was about to curse, but he stopped as he realized exactly what she was saying.

“Maybe not,” he said slowly. “But ‘brother-in-law’ would count, wouldn’t it?”

“What?” Inara said. “I don’t understand, Mal, what are you saying?”

Mal ran his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out how to explain.

“Well, things have been… a bit rough out here, past few weeks,” he said. “Without Simon, it’s been a mite hard to explain River in a certain situations, and we started getting real worried after she almost got hauled off as a lunatic on Boros. Came up with the idea of getting married so we’d be her next of kin. It was supposed to be so I could pull her out of a psych ward if I had to, but it should work just as good for getting information on her brother, shouldn’t it? ”

“Oh my God, Mal, _you didn’t_ ,” Inara gasped. “You’ll never get away with it! The Alliance is dealing very harshly with cases of fraudulent marriage ever since that series of immigration scams in the Kalidasi System. If she gets booked into a psychiatric ward as a married woman and her body scan shows she hasn’t had sexual relations, it will be an automatic red flag. Her case will get sent straight to the authorities and you cannot afford to be under that kind of investigation right… well, ever.”

“I know, Inara,” Mal said soothingly. “It’s already dealt with. She and Jayne… well, body scan’ll show that all is as it should be.”

He blushed and looked away from the screen.

“Malcolm Reynolds, are you telling me that River has had _intercourse_?” Inara screeched. “With _Jayne_?”

“Well,” Mal said uncomfortably, “Ah… yes?”

“That… I…” Inara stuttered, then gasped. “But I thought _you_ married her?”

“I did!” Mal said, feeling slightly harassed. “But my, uh, let’s just say I had some conflicted feelings about th’ whole thing and we thought it would be better all ‘round if Jayne did the… honors.”

 “What, your morals were too high to take advantage of her yourself, but you had no problem sending her off to that… _ape_?” Inara spat, absolutely furious.

“Calm down!” Mal said. “He ain’t that bad. And it’s all above-board and proper, he’s married to her too.”

“ _What_?” Inara gasped. “ _Malcolm Reynolds, what are you talking about?_ ”

“We went to Circe,” Mal said. “Seems that kind of thing is legal there. Th’ three of us got hitched and…”

He stopped at the expression on Inara’s face.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she said, her voice deadly. “Mal, that girl is fragile to begin with and having sexual relations is the probably one of the worst things that could happen to her. And with _Jayne_ , of all people! Do you have any idea what sort of damage this has almost certainly done to her psychologically?”

Mal’s stomach clenched. He’d thought the same thing, but had allowed River to convince him otherwise. Now though…

“She seems fine,” Mal said defensively. “I mean, what with her bein’ off her meds, it’s a little hard t’ understand her, but from what I’ve managed to gather…”

“ _She seems fine_?” Inara hissed. “Mal, are you trained as a counselor? _She is not fine_.” She paused, fighting for control. “Mal, I need to talk with River,” she said, coldly.

“Look, Inara, I’m not sure that’s the best…” Mal began.

“Put River on, Mal,” Inara said, giving him an icy glare. “ _Now_!”

Mal’s mouth snapped shut and he stared at Inara, taken aback. Then, deciding that it probably _would_ be better to let River handle this, he got up without a word and went looking for her.

She was in the engine room with Jayne, trying to fix something in the press regulator. He could hear them laughing as he approached and for a moment, some of his worry eased. It had been a while since he’d heard her laugh, and the fact that she was laughing with Jayne made it seem like maybe he hadn’t screwed up that bad after all, letting them do… what they did this morning. He poked his head in and saw Jayne holding one of the bigger engine parts out of the way while River lay in the gap he’d made, trying to do something Mal couldn’t see.

“Crazy Girl, I don’t know nothin’ about engines, but I _know_ that they ain’t got no geese in them,” Jayne was saying, still laughing.

“Blind goose giving directions to deaf goose, flock will never reach the lake!” River said excitedly, voice muffled by the engine. “Gaggle is garbled, no pondweed for anyone tonight!”

She giggled and then yelped as something went _bang_.

“You alright in there, girl?” Jayne asked.

“Bad goose!” River said.

At this point, Jayne saw Mal standing in the doorway.

“Hey, Captain,” he said, then tapped river’s ankle gently with his foot. “Crazy Girl! Captain’s here.”

River squeaked and pulled herself out of the engine. Her face was filthy and her hair was tangled and looked like it had grease in it. She was wearing a pair of Kaylee’s coveralls and they swallowed her tiny frame and altogether, making her look kind of like a kid playing at mudpies. She looked up at Mal from the floor, cocking her head.

“The priestess demands to see the beggar maid,” she said.

“If by that you mean that Inara’s on the con and wants t’ talk t’ you, you’d be right,” Mal said.

River grimaced.

“Tempest,” she said. “Tea set is going to get broken.”

She got to her feet and looked at Jayne.

“Goose can _tā mā de běnshēn héng pán_ ,”[1] she said coolly.

“What?” Mal yelped. “Girl, I do not want t’ be hearin’ language like that outa you!”

She looked at him, all wide-eyed innocence.

“Bad goose,” she said, and skipped off towards the bridge.

Jayne laughed as he wrestled the engine part back into position.

***

 

Inara sat in front of her cortex screen and went through the five styles of breathing as she waited for Mal to fetch River. She had known, as soon as Mal had told her about what had happened on D’Aria, that things were going to get very bad on _Serenity_ , but she had thought that Mal would at least look after River. He had always been so protective of the girl, Inara had been sure he would take care of her. It seemed, though, that she had been wrong, and the worst part was, he didn’t even realize what he had done.

When River appeared on Inara’s cortex screen, the Companion gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. The girl was absolutely filthy, her hair unkempt, her face covered in dirt, her borrowed clothes smeared with grease.

“ _Mei mei_ ,”[2] Inara breathed, fighting back tears. “What has happened to you?”

River regarded her with solemn, unreadable eyes.

“Breaking heart,” she said earnestly. “Trying to mend it, but the doctor isn’t here.”

Inara swallowed hard. The poor, lost child, bereft of her brother and left in the hands of two dumb brutes who couldn’t even manage to keep her clean while they unwittingly destroyed her fragile psyche.

“You’ll get Simon back soon, I promise,” she said.

“No,” River said, shaking her head emphatically. “ _Sunshine’s_ gone.”

“Oh, _mei mei_ ,” Inara said.

Clearly the girl had given up hope. Inara steeled herself and pulled on her professional persona. She had to determine just what kind of damage she was dealing with here.

“River, sweetheart, can you talk to me about what has happening on _Serenity_?”  she asked gently. “Mal says that you got married?”

River nodded, her pale face growing even more serious.

“Atom is still in a partially ionized state, but soon it will capture its rogue electron and become stable,” she said.

Inara blinked, taken aback for a second.

“I… what was that, _mei mei_?” she asked.

“Static is temporary,” River said, frowning and rubbing her forehead. “Sparks caused by negative charge, will resolve when electron is regained.”

“River,” Inara said, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand you.”

River’s face scrunched up and she clutched at her soiled hair.

“Can’t…” she said. “Slipping, tripping, falling into the wrong stream. Priestess can’t bless if she can’t hear.” Suddenly frantic, River leapt out of the chair. “Iphigenia cannot speak,” she said. “Need Achilles!”

“Wait, River!” Inara cried, but River was already gone.

When she returned, she had Mal with her and was clutching his arm like a scared child.

“Mal, what are you doing here?” Inara snapped, angry at the intrusion.

He shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

“River said she needed me,” he said as he sat cautiously down in the chair, River standing pressed against his side.

“Mal, this is a private conversation,” Inara said. “I can’t talk to River with you listening.”

“Need him to speak for me!” River said, burying her face in his arm.

“Oh God,” Inara said, closing her eyes.

She’d seen this too many times, a fragile woman whose will had been overridden by a male authority figure and who was now convinced that she must defer to him.

“ _Mei mei_ , you don’t need anyone to speak for you,” she said. “Just because Mal is the captain doesn’t mean that he gets to dictate what you feel or say.”

“Whoa, Inara,” Mal broke in. “Think you’ve got it wrong there. She don’t mean I tell her what to say, she just means I have t’ help you understand it.”

“Mal, that’s not what it sounded like,” Inara said, anger welling up in her. “It sounded like she said she wasn’t allowed to speak for herself!”

Mal ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Well, that’s part of the trouble,” he said. “She’s havin’ some difficulties speakin’ clear since the doc ain’t here t’ give her… whatever he was giving her. Causes some misunderstandings. Gotten to the point I can understand her if I work hard enough at it, but it ain’t easy. Most folk can’t follow at all.”

“You’re saying that you act as her… what, her translator?” Inara asked, trying to remain calm, although she didn’t really believe a word of it.

Mal shrugged uncomfortably.

“Dunno,” he said. “Guess so.”

“Achilles speaks Iphigenia’s words so that the Akhians can hear,” River said.

Inara had no idea what River was saying.

“What does she mean?” she asked Mal.

“She means that people don’t listen when she talks, so she needs someone else to put it in words they can understand,” Mal said casually, as though talking about obscure Classical figures was normal for him. “Now, darlin’, what was it you wanted t’ tell Inara?”

Inara gaped at him.

“Priestess must know that the broken doll is exceptionally gifted in flight,” River said firmly.

Mal turned sharply, a look of horror on his face.

“I… no!” he yelped. “Little one, I am _not_ goin’ t’ be tellin’ Inara...that! It ain’t… it ain’t right!”

River cocked her head, then sighed.

“He is correct,” she said to Inara. “Not fit to pass on this confession.”

“What do you have to confess, River?” Inara said.

River shook her head.

“Consummation of marriage vows,” she said. “Cannot be quantified in the current conditions. Need _ge ge_ to complete the bonding ritual.”

Inara was speechless. Mal stared at River for a moment, then burst into helpless laughter. River’s eyes widened and she let out a very teenaged “ _Ew_!”

“Not my fault, darlin’,” Mal gasped between gulps of laughter. “You said it.”

River flushed and began to giggle.

“Mal?” Inara said, finding her voice again. “Surely she can’t mean…?”

“No,” Mal said, getting a grip on himself and smiling that wry smile that _still_ had the power to make Inara’s heart jump, just a little. “She wasn’t sayin’ she needed Simon to… uh… help with the consummatin’— although it damned well sounded like it for a minute there.” Another snort of laughter escaped him, but he pushed it back and took a breath. “Near as I can figure, what she was actually sayin’ is she needs him to get her so she can speak straight enough to have a proper girl talk.”

Inara gaped at him.

“How in the world did you get _that_ out of what she just said?” she said.

Mal shrugged.

“Hard to explain, really,” he said. “Th’ part about needing Simon, well, that’s easy, it’s been on my mind every day since I realized she was gettin’ worse without her meds. As for th’ rest, Kaylee,” he paused and swallowed, clearly having a hard time saying his mechanic’s name, “Kaylee was always tellin’ me how important girl talk was, sayin’ how it was a way of bonding or some such— mostly when I was scoldin’ her for bein’ in your shuttle ‘stead of the engine room, by the by. Anyways, I was thinkin’ on that when River wanted me to say… well, let’s just put it this way, a man has no place in that kinda conversation between womenfolk.”

“That is surprisingly perceptive, coming from you,” Inara said acidly before she could even properly digest what Mal was telling her. “I wouldn’t have thought you were able understand that there are some conversations in which you have no place.”

Mal blinked, then realized what she had said and made as though to retort, but River put a hand on his shoulder.

“Mother Confessor frightened for her broken daughter,” she said. “Does not mean to blame the messenger.” She frowned, concentrating on something. “Needs to see,” she muttered fretfully. “Needs to see.” Abruptly, her face cleared. “The knight can show her!” she said happily, and dashed off.

Mal watched River go with a puzzled expression, then shrugged and turned back to Inara.

“I’m sorry, Inara,” he said. “I know you’re worried about River and I’m well aware that this here situation don’t look too good from the outside. It’s… well, it’s damned hard to explain, and God knows I’ve never been any good at explainin’ things to you, even at the best of times. Always do seem t’ get it wrong.”

Inara didn’t know whether to be more shocked by the apology or by the fact that, in apologizing, Mal was, apparently, deferring to River’s wishes.

“I’m sorry too, Mal,” Inara found herself saying. “I just assumed the worst of you, like I always do. But you have to know how insane and… _wrong_ this all sounds and how worrisome it is that River has been sexually intimate— and with _Jayne_ —  when she is so sick that she can’t even express herself properly.”

“I surely do,” Mal said, “And believe me, I had a thing or two t’ say my ownself when she came up with this crazy scheme.”

“Wait, this was _River’s_ idea?” Inara gasped.

“Of course.” Mal raised an eyebrow. “You think Jayne or I could have thought up something like this? Or that either of us woulda knowed enough about marriage and the laws on different planets t’ make it happen?”

Inara realized that she hadn’t thought about that. She had been so focused on her outrage that it hadn’t occurred to her to wonder how Mal, one of the most straightlaced men she’d ever met despite his status as a petty criminal, could possibly have conceived a scheme involving a polyandrous marriage, never mind have known about the unique quirks of Circe’s marriage laws.

“Thing is,” Mal went on, “I’ve had t’ depend on River’s judgment more’n a little, these past weeks. I don’t understand what she’s sayin’ half th’ time and I sure as hell ain’t smart enough t’ follow her when that brain a’ hers gets goin’, but she does seem t’ know how t’ get us outa trouble and keep us flyin’. She’s saved our asses so many times, Jayne don’t even bother arguin’ anymore, just does what she says.”

“ _Jayne_ takes orders from _River_?” Inara said weakly.

“I know,” Mal said. “I’ve gotten sorta used to it, but it still don’t seem natural. Point is, though, we’ve both gotten t’ trusting that when she tells us t’ do something, she’s got a good reason for it even if she can’t explain what it is.”

Inara bit her lip.

“Oh Mal,” she said.

This was just the sort of situation he would get himself into, her idealistic outlaw, following the word of a crazy psychic in pursuit of a hopeless dream.

“I know, Inara,” he said, rubbing his hand over his face. “I’d like t’ be able t’ say that I thought I’d done right here, that I reasoned through all the whys and wherefores and decided that this was the best course, but the truth is, I just did what I always do: I dealt with what was in front of me.”

“Mal, has it ever occurred to you that you do things that way because you have no choice?” Inara asked. “You are faced with impossible situations every day, but somehow, you get through them. Even when there is no clear path, you go forward, and somehow you always find a way even when you can’t see where you’re going.”

“You my councilor now, Inara?” he asked with a wry grin.

At that point River dashed back in, tugging Jayne by the hand. Inara’s eyes widened as she took in the fact that Jayne, mean, grumpy Jayne, was laughing at the girl’s antics rather than growling or threatening. River pulled him to stand beside Mal and smiled at Inara brightly.

“Captain cannot explain, circuits will melt,” she said, “Jayne’s circuits are configured differently, will serve admirably.”

“What’s goin’ on, Crazy Girl,” the mercenary asked, still smiling.

“Priestess is worried, thinks they’ve made the broken doll more broken,” River said. “Needs to see, like the captain did.”

“See what?” Jayne asked.

“Aptitude for flying,” River said.

Jayne’s eyes widened.

“What, again?” he asked. “In front of Inara? I dunno, Crazy, that’s…”

“No, no performance,” River said. “Just words. Priestess thinks that she isn’t supposed to fly and assumes that any attempt would damage her irreparably. Must explain that she is spaceworthy.”

Mal looked ready to bolt, but his escape route was blocked by the girl and the mercenary. Jayne, meanwhile, scratched his beard and frowned at River for a moment, then nodded in understanding.

“I get it,” he said. “‘Nara thinks us sexin’ hurt your head, made you worse.”

River nodded.

“Need to explain that the girl is built to fly,” she said.

Jayne gave her a grin.

“That you are, baby doll,” he said. He turned to the wave cam. “Crazy wants me t’ tell you that she’s fine,” he said. “Whatever’s messed up in her head, it ain’t anything t’ do with sexin’. She’s pretty normal that way. Well,” he grinned wolfishly, “Not normal, she’s way better than normal. But she ain’t broken, she feels and wants and does like any other woman. She’s just more talented than most.”

Inara was fighting to remain professional and Mal looked like he wanted to die.

“I see,” Inara said with difficulty. “Can you explain what you mean by… _talented_?”

Jayne nodded.

“She gets revved up real quick,” he said without any trace of embarrassment, “And when she comes, she comes fast and she comes hard. Knows what she wants, too, and figures out how to get it.”

River smiled and tilted her head.

“Genius,” she said modestly.

“I see,” Inara said, her face stiff with the effort of controlling her expression. “And did she, at any time, show any sign of fear or distress, get upset in any way?”

Jayne gave Inara a strange look, like he thought she was dumb for asking the question, and she found herself mildly insulted.

“‘Course she did,” he said. “It was her first time, it’d be a wonder if she didn’t get a mite upset.”

Inara had to admit that Jayne had a point, but that kind of perceptiveness was something she would never have expected of him.

“What upset her?” she asked.

“Well, it hurt her a little, just at first,” Jayne said, showing discomfort for the first time. “I tried t’ make sure she was ready, but…”

“Book had never been read,” River cut in, patting Jayne’s arm in a reassuring way. “Pages needed to be cut, no alternative.”

“Huh?” Jayne said, looking at her in bewilderment.

“It’s an obscure reference, Jayne,” Inara said, realizing with shock that she’d actually understood River for once. “When a hard-copy book is new, some of the pages are still attached to each other and they need to be cut apart before the book can be read. I believe she is referring to the… ah… _physical_ conditions of virginity, although I am somewhat surprised that her hymen was still intact, considering the kind of dance she does.”

“So she’s sayin’ I couldn’t have kept it from hurting?” Jayne said, looking relieved. “That’s good, I felt bad about that, thought maybe I’d done somethin’ wrong.”

“No,” Inara said, unable to quite believe what she was saying, “That is perfectly normal. Is there anything else that seemed to cause her distress?”

“Not exactly,” Jayne said, frowning. “I mean, she gets overwhelmed easy, between being so sensitive and bein’ able t’ read who she’s with, but when that happens, we just slow down. And Mal helps.”

Mal had been hunkered down in the pilot’s chair, head in his hands, clearly wishing he could disappear. At this last statement, however, he jerked upright in abject panic.

“Mal helps… how exactly?” Inara asked.

“Talks t’ her, figures out what she’s saying, knows when she’s had too much and needs t’ back off a bit,” he explained. “Holds her hand, too, keeps her grounded when she’s like t’ get lost in her head.”

“Mal was _there_?” Inara breathed, trying to come to grips with this new revelation.

Mal looked ready to commit seppuku. River gave Jayne a reproving glance, which he did not see.

“Of course,” Jayne said to Inara, oblivious of the havoc his words had created. “She talks crazier when she gets worked up. I don’t always understand her, but Mal gets how her head works, even recognizes some of those fancy ideas of hers. He can figure out what she’s saying, most times, knows what she needs. Even told me to get on with it at one point when I was bein’ too careful.”

Mal made a loud, strangled noise that resembled the death squawk of a duck. River gave Inara a small, wry smile.

“Lithium,” she said, shrugging as though that explained everything.

 

***

“I hate you both,” Mal growled as they cut the wave a little while later.

River laughed and kissed his cheek. Jayne ignored him.

“You gonna call these lawyers?” the mercenary asked instead.

“Figure I’ll wait until after we refuel and check in with Gorgon,” Mal said. “How long until we hit Canmar, Albatross?”

“4 hours, 14 minutes and 8 seconds,” River said. “Approximately.”

“Good,” Mal said. “You go back t’ fixin’ whatever it is you’re fixin’. And wash up when you’re done, you look like somethin’ th’ cat dragged in.”

River laughed and skipped away.

“Hope t’ God we get somethin’ out of this,” Mal said, looking at the information Inara had sent him.

To his surprise, he felt Jayne’s hand on his shoulder.

“We’re gonna get ‘em back, Mal,” he said.

Mal looked up.

“How d’you know?” he asked.

Jayne shrugged.

“Because they’re your crew,” he said. “You always do right by your crew.”

He turned and followed River and Mal leaned back in the chair, staring out at the black and thinking about what he’d said.

 _I always try,_ he thought, _But I don’t always succeed. I failed Shepherd Book and I failed Wash. I let Zoe, Kaylee, and Simon go down to the surface at D’Aria even though I knew it wasn’t safe. And River…_

He closed his eyes. This wasn’t getting helping. Inara was right, he just had to keep moving forward even though he couldn’t see where he was going.

 

***

 

They were approaching Canmar, the grungy little asteroid-turned-space-station that served as a fuel stop for ships on the Cháng Bì[3] run, when Mal saw the Alliance cruiser.

“ _Qīn'ài de kě'ài de xiǎohái fú_ ,”[4] Mal swore. He hit the intercom. “Jayne, River, we’ve got Alliance!”

He glared at the hulking monstrosity that was taking up his sky, cursing in Chinese and English and hoping like hell it didn’t hail them.

Of course, that would have been good luck, and Mal had never had good luck. The con crackled.

“ _Firefly transport, this is the Alliance cruiser_ Cortez _. Please respond. Firefly transport, this is the Alliance cruiser_ Cortez _. Please respond._ ”

“ _Mǎ'qiú hé xióngmāo de yǎnlèi_ ,”[5] Mal muttered, opening the channel.

“ _Cortez_ , this is Firefly transport _Serenity_. Acknowledge,” he said into the mic.

The screen flickered and cleared to reveal a bored woman with a con officer’s stripes on her collar.

“Acknowledged, _Serenity_ ,” she said. “This is a routine checkpoint. Please stand by for docking procedures.”

 _Weren’t no ruttin’ checkpoint here last time I made the Cháng Bì run_ , Mal thought.

“Standing by, _Cortez_ ,” Mal ground out between his clenched teeth.

As soon as the docking info had been sent and the connection with _Cortez_ was cut, Mal punched the intercom again.

“We’re bein’ brought in,” he said tersely. “Get down t’ the cargo bay, _now_.”

He released the intercom and began the docking procedures.

“Thank Buddha we’ve already dropped the cargo,” he muttered to himself.

Of course, just because they didn’t have anything that was particularly hot on board didn’t mean that they weren’t in trouble. River might not have warrants on her anymore, but that didn’t mean nobody remembered her, and _Serenity_ wasn’t exactly squeaky clean. If the Feds decided to run a background check on the ship rather than just checking her for contraband and seeing that Mal’s paperwork was in order…

There was a jolt as _Serenity_ docked with _Cortez_. With angry haste, Mal powered the ship down, grabbed the papers from the locker, and took off at a run for the cargo bay. River and Jayne were standing beside the crates to one side of the door and River was muttering something too soft for Mal to hear. She’d washed up like he told her too. Her hair was all wet and she had clean clothes on, a green dress with a lacy blue cardigan over it. No shoes, of course, that would have been too much to ask.

“What’s she sayin’?” Mal asked, moving swiftly to stand beside his crew members.

“Somethin’ about playin’ music,” Jayne said, frowning. “Don’t rightly get it.”

“Always playing scales, up and down, up and down, endless repetition,” River murmured. “Never gets to play the symphony.”

Mal knew that she was telling him something important, but the alert on the airlock sounded before he could even begin trying to figure it out.

“ _Ta ma de_ ,” Mal swore.

He strode forward and punched the release, then stepped back as the doors hissed open and eight armed purple-bellies stepped out of the airlock, followed by their commanding officer. He was a corporal, young and eager-looking with a round face and beady eyes. He smiled a sickly smile and saluted just a little too enthusiastically.

“Corporal Geurin, Inspection Officer, Second Class,” he said.

Mal gave him a tight nod.

“Captain Malcolm Reynolds,” he said coolly, holding out his papers.

 His eyes slid to the purple-bellies and he felt anger welling up in his chest. He hated having feds on his boat.

Corporal Guerin passed the papers to his second-in-command to be verified and turned his attention to River and Jayne, frowning.

“Is this your entire crew?” he asked, looking at Mal suspiciously.

“It is,” Mal said, refusing to elaborate even though he knew that it looked odd, a ship this size running with only three hands. “Jayne Cobb and River Reynolds.”

It had made sense at the time, River taking his name. ‘Tam’ might not set off red flags from here to Osiris anymore, but it was still connected to a lot of dangerous information, and sharing a name would make it lots easier for him to bail River out of a mess. But the sharp look the corporal got in his eye was making Mal suddenly regret making the marriage quite that obvious.

“Your daughter?” the corporal asked.

Oh for the love of… okay, so she looked younger than she was, but come on, did he _really_ look old enough to have a grown up daughter?

“Wife,” he bit out.

“Oh, I see,” Corporal Geurin said with an even sicklier smile.

Mal resisted the urge to punch him and wipe that smug look off his face.

“This seems like an awfully small crew for this type of vessel, Captain Reynolds,” the corporal said.

“We’re runnin’ a bit shorthanded at the moment,” Mal growled.

The beady little eyes contracted for a moment.

“Ah,” the corporal said. “I see. This is a transport ship, yes? What is your current cargo?”

“Don’t got one,” Mal said. “We’re between jobs.”

“Hmm,” Corporal Geurin said, eying Mal in a way that the captain did not care for at all. “Well, we need to have a look around, if that’s alright with you Captain. Make sure everything is in order.”

“You do what you got to do, Corporal,” Mal said.

Corporal Geurin gestured to four of the purple-bellies and they started into the bay.

“Jayne, go with them,” Mal ground out.

“That is not necessary, Captain Reynolds,” Corporal Geurin said with oily superiority.

“Nobody goin’ t’ be walkin’ over my boat without I got my man with ‘em,” Mal said, meeting the Fed’s eyes with grim resolve.

“This is most irregular, Captain,” the Corporal said, bristling at this challenge to his authority. “One might think that you had something to hide.”

“Ain’t irregular not to want strangers on my boat without an escort,” Mal said. “ _Serenity_ ’s not a passenger ship, she ain’t set up for visitors. They touch the wrong thing, I’m liable t’ have an injured officer and a whole bunch of repairs on my hands.”

“Ship’s papers check out, Sir,” said the Corporal’s second, breaking the tension.

Corporal Guerin nodded absently to the purple-bellies and Jayne grunted for them to “Follow me and don’t touch nothin’ ‘less I tell you it ain’t gonna make you go splat.”

 

***

River could hear the scales playing, endless boring scales running up and down, going nowhere. Compared to the scales, Mal was Mahler’s Symphony No. 9, all darkness and power interspersed with moments of aching beauty.

The scales hated Mal for being the symphony.

River whimpered. The scales— the _Fed_ , she needed to remember or she would never be able to save them— would pull _Serenity_ out of the sky out of simple spite. She could feel him thinking of ways to keep the ship locked onto the _Cortez_ so that he could do a really thorough background check.

 _Surely there must be_ something _I can use to take this no-account transport captain down a peg or two…_

She needed to do something or the universe would slide into chaos.

She needed to give the scales a symphony to play.

 

***

 

River had been quiet since the Feds came on board, but as Jayne left her side and began to escort the search team into the bay, she got agitated. Her hands began twisting the hem of her cardigan and she started whimpering.

 _Oh, lā shǐ_ , Mal thought, _Here we go._

“What is it, Albatross?” he asked, his voice sharp with worry.

“Not right, not right,” she said. “Strangers in armor, like on the _Iliad_. Came to help, but they took everyone away and left me alone.” She turned to Mal with tears in her eyes. “ _Zhàngfū,_ [6] please don’t leave me alone,” she said pathetically, “I am afraid of being alone.”

When she’d first started talking, Mal had thought that River was having a flashback to a previous time when _Serenity_ had been boarded— there were, he realized, quite a few to choose from— but the minute she called him ‘husband,’ he knew that she was trying to tell him something. Of course, they _were_ technically married, but she hadn’t called him that before and she had to know that it would annoy the hell out of him.

“What is it, _Xiǎohuā_?” [7] Mal asked, moving quickly to her side.

Normally he would no more call her ‘little flower’ than she would call him ‘husband,’ but he wanted her to know that he understood. _Iliad_ , he thought, _Why do I remember that name_? River pressed herself against him, clutching his shirt with her hands, like she did when she was having a really bad day, and Mal automatically rubbed her arms.

“Bored piano player,” River said, so softly that only Mal could hear, “Wants to play in the symphony, but never even allowed to practice with the orchestra. Must give him a different song to play.” She looked up at him and her eyes were scared. “Have to let the tide take me, Mal,” she whispered. “Have to slip into the chaos, lose myself. Don’t let me drown, please?”

“I’m here for you, darlin’,” Mal said. “You know that.”

She smiled, a sad, frightened smile.

Then she started screaming.

“What in the world!” Corporal Geuran shouted.

“Darlin’, darlin’, calm down!” Mal said frantically, grabbing River’s wrists as she started trying to tear at her hair.

“ _Ta ma de_!” Jayne said. “You!” he yelled to the fed search team, “Stay there and don’t move!”

He ran back to where Mal was still trying to restrain River, who was screaming at the top of her lungs. Mal’s hold on River wasn’t good, but he couldn’t let her go to get a better one. Seeing the problem, the big merc automatically wrapped his arms around the girl’s upper body in the same move he’d tried at the Maidenhead.

The fact that Jayne’s balls remained intact suggested to Mal that River hadn’t totally lost it.

Good.

But she was still screaming like a banshee and struggling so hard he was afraid she was going to hurt herself.

Not good.

“Whassa matter with her, Captain?” Jayne asked urgently.

“She’s having a fit, Jayne!” Mal said, trying to stay calm. “I should think that’d pretty _tā mā de_ obvious!”

 _What the fuck does_ Iliad _mean?_ Mal thought. _She was tryin’ to tell me something, I just have to figure out what it is._

“Captain Reynolds!” Corporal Guerin said, appearing beside them and trying to get in Mal’s face, “What is the meaning of this?”

His presence seemed to make River worse and Jayne had to actually lift her off her feet to keep her from twisting out of his grip.

“Back off!” Jayne snarled.

“Corporal, step back!” Mal barked, so agitated that he used his sergeant voice without meaning to.

The Corporal took an involuntary step back, then, realizing that he’d just conceded authority to the captain of a run-down transport ship with no cargo, flushed a blotchy red. He puffed up, like he was going to explode and Mal realized his mistake.

_Ta ma de, ta ma de, what do I do?_

_‘Bored piano player, wants to play in the symphony.’_

_Bored soldier out on the rim, never gets any action, wants to feel important._

“Sorry,” Mal said, summoning up all the humility that he didn’t have and looking at the Corporal, “Didn’t mean t’ yell at you. It’s just, she’s… fragile and she don’t much take t’ strangers at th’ best of times. Right now…” he let his voice crack, “I’m sorry, I’m… she’s… I don’t know what t’ do.”

Mal saw the shift, affronted authority turning to patronizing concern.

“What’s wrong with her?” the Corporal asked. “Is she schizophrenic?”

_No, River wouldn’t risk being labeled as schizo… would she?_

_Wait,_ Iliad! _The_ transport accident. _A few years back, somewhere in the Core— engines blew, left her drifting. Took the authorities three days to get to her, but the first rescue ship wasn’t big enough, so they only took the critically injured, left the rest for the next ship. Some important Core bigwig had to retire because of PTSD, couldn’t go to his own office because the security guards’ uniforms gave him the heebie jeebies. Kaylee loved that story, always told it when she was makin’ her point about Capisant 38 engines._

“PTSD,” Mal said. “Transport accident. Uniforms give her flashbacks sometimes, somethin’ about the rescue crews, but— God, she ain’t been this bad since…”

The lies were not exactly tripping off his tongue, but the Corporal was lapping it up.

_Boy must be really bored if he’s bein’ suckered by such a piss-poor performance as I’m puttin’ on here._

_Give him something to do._

“Please, Corporal,” Mal said, resisting the urge to spit out the bad taste the _please_ left in his mouth, “You got a doctor on board? I don’t… see, we lost our medic a couple weeks back and I’ve never dealt with this myself before. I hate t’ ask, I know you ain’t an emergency facility, but…”

Another anguished wail from River cut him off— _thank God, he’d been running out of humility awful quick there_ — and Mal tried again to calm her down, grabbing her hands and calling her name. She didn’t even seem like she’d heard him.

“Anderson!” Corporal Geurin barked, “Get one of the medical team over here, on the double!”

“Yes, sir!” one of the feds said, saluting and heading back through the airlock.

“Captain,” the Corporal said authoritatively— God, the man was _really_ getting off on this whole taking-charge-in-a-crisis thing— “Maybe you could have your man take her somewhere a little more comfortable?”

“Uh, right,” Mal said, his voice tight, “Jayne, take her up to the lounge.”

Jayne somehow managed to get River to the passenger lounge, Mal and the Corporal following. Mal really didn’t like leaving all those purple-bellies unattended in his cargo bay, but there was nothing for it. He had to keep the Corporal’s mind on River. The change in venue didn’t do anything for the situation. Mal had known it wouldn’t, but he had to let Corporal Geurin feel like he was _doing something_. River was too hysterical for Jayne to even get her on the couch. The mercenary ended up just standing in the middle of the room with his big hands gripping her wrists and his arms wrapped around her as she thrashed and screamed. Mal had never seen Jayne look in as much pain as he did right then. He looked worse now than he had when River had kicked him, worse than when she’d slashed him with the knife. Apparently he could take the girl beating on him, but couldn’t take hearing her scream.

“River, darlin’, can you hear me?” Mal asked gently, taking her face in his hands and turning her to look at him.

Her eyes were completely blank.

Mal swallowed hard, fighting panic. It turned out that he wasn’t having to do much acting at all to pull off the part of the concerned husband. He really couldn’t stand seeing River like this. He hadn’t realized, until now, how well she’d been doing these past weeks, even without the drugs. She’d had bad spells, sure, but he’d always been able to calm her down. Now it was like the girl he knew wasn’t even there.

He remembered some of River’s worst days when she first came aboard _Serenity_ , the days when she was incoherent and violent and wouldn’t stop screaming, the days when Simon had to hold her and get someone to bring him his bag so he could dope her. He’d always felt bad for the doc, but he’d never seen River sane then, so he’d never realized how much it hurt, seeing this beautiful, brilliant girl turn into a raving lunatic.

 _Honey,_ he thought, _I think I understand your plan, but was it really worth this?_

“Captain?” Jayne asked, managing to convey a world of hurt and questioning with that one word.

“This couldn’t be goin’ any worse if it were one o’ _my_ plans,” Mal said roughly.

Corporal Geurin looked confused— as well he should, Mal hadn’t meant him to understand— but Jayne got it. It was Jayne, after all, who liked to make fun of Mal’s plans. He understood that, whatever River had meant to do, things had gone sideways and they were on their own.

“ _Lā shǐ_ ,” he snarled.

Corporal Geurin’s com crackled.

“ _I’ve got Dr. Ashokh in the cargo bay, Sir._ ”

“Bring him,” the Corporal replied into the mic.

A minute later, the Alliance doctor was standing in the hatch.

Mal took an instant dislike to Dr. Ashokh. Maybe it was the sardonic twist to his mobile mouth as he paused and took in the situation. Or maybe it was the way his grey eyes looked at everything like it was part of his own private joke. Or maybe it was the fact that the first thing that came out of his mouth was, “Considering the noise, I was expecting someone larger.”

Mal clenched his jaw and studied the doctor with a steely gaze. The man was middle aged with graying hair and a face that was still handsome, despite the lines. He was unshaven, the top buttons of his uniform were undone, and he didn’t even acknowledge Corporal Geurin’s salute. He regarded Mal with an amused look.

“Having a little trouble with your wife, Captain?” he asked. “What happened, did she trip on her jump rope?”

Mal was halfway across the room when he realized that he couldn’t hit the man and right up in his face when he realized he probably shouldn’t grab him by the coat and slam him up against the wall either. So he settled for giving this _wūshuǐ chí fú zhā_ [8] the look that had made new recruits piss their pants back in the day. The doctor, despite his ingrained nonchalance, took half a step back.

“You don’t know me, doc,” Mal said, real quiet, “So I’m gonna let that slide. But next time you take it into your head to disrespect me or mine, you will find yourself in a world of hurt. Do I make myself clear?”

Corporal Guerin was making inarticulate noises and Mal cursed himself. He’d forgotten _again_. He took a step back.

“Sorry, Corporal,” he said. “I was outa line. If you’d have your man see t’ my wife, I’d be grateful.”

Mal thought that Corporal Geurin was going to go all high and mighty on him again, but to his surprise, the Corporal was looking… happy.

“One of these days you’re lack of professionalism is going to get you into real trouble, Doctor Ashokh,” he said smugly.

Ah. The corporal didn’t like Dr. Ashokh. Shiny. Mal went back to glaring at the doctor.

The man recovered quickly, his smirk sliding back into place so smoothly it was as though it had never left his face.

“I see I hit a nerve” he said.

Still smirking, the doctor moved over to where the mercenary was holding the struggling, girl.

“My, my,” he said, apparently unphased by the writhing or the screams. “So, what am I dealing with here? Psychosis? Schizophrenia? Neurological disorder?”

“PTSD,” Mal bit out.

The doctor raised an eyebrow as he set his bag on the low table and fished out a hypo kit.

“Post-traumatic stress?” he said. “But her environment seems so replete with sunshine and bunnies. What kind of trauma could she possibly have experienced in such nurturing surroundings?”

Mal clenched his hands and concentrated on not hitting the man.

Jayne growled low in his throat.

“Doctor Ashokh!” Corporal Geurin said huffily.

The doctor’s smirk grew even more pronounced and he gave the corporal a mocking look before turning to River.

“I need her arm, please,” he said to Jayne.

Jayne bared his teeth at the man, but reluctantly used his grip on her wrist to extend her left arm, allowing the doctor access to the veins. River sobbed and twisted violently in his grip and Mal was very grateful in that moment for Jayne’s size; she couldn’t get the range of movement needed to dislocate anything. The doctor calmly slid the needle into her arm and injected her with the sedative. River didn’t even seem to notice, which did not reassure Mal at all. At least when she was threatening bodily harm to anyone who approached her with a needle, he knew she was aware of her surroundings.

“There,” Dr. Ashokh said. “All better now. In a few moments, she will be drooling and incoherent rather than screaming and incoherent.”

He put away the spent hypo and looked at Mal.

“Now,” he said, and suddenly all the amusement was gone from his face, “Why don’t you tell me how a little girl who lives on a spaceship with two delightful fellows such as yourselves for company comes to have such an impressive case of PTSD?”

“Transport accident,” Mal bit out, repeating the lie he’d told Geurin.

“ _Really_?” the doctor said with a look of false sympathy on his face. “A _transport_ accident. Well, of course, those give everyone the screaming meemies. We have whole hospitals just for victims of the famous Crashed Shuttle Syndrome.”

Mal suddenly found himself losing interest in this conversation. What did it matter if some smart-assed Alliance needle-pusher thought he was abusing his wife? He had bigger worries. He turned away from the doctor and focused on River. She was still struggling, but her movements were growing sluggish and her screams were giving way to sobs.

“Hey there, little one,” he said, stroking her hair. “Can you hear me?”

She didn’t respond, just twisted weakly in Jayne’s arms.

“Let’s get her lying down,” Mal said to Jayne.

They got her to the couch and Jayne laid her gently on the scratchy fabric. Mal knelt on the floor beside her and held her shoulders as gently as he could while she tossed her head fitfully and whimpered.

As soon as Jayne’s arms were free, he turned around and delivered a powerful but controlled right hook to the Alliance doctor’s stubbled jaw. The man went crashing into the wall and Corporal Guerin jumped back with a high-pitched squeal.

“ _That_ was for thinkin’ we would ever harm a hair on that girl’s head,” Jayne snarled. “And _that_ ,” here he delivered a heavy backhand just as the doctor was regaining his feet, sending him right back down again, “Was for gettin’ smart with th’ captain instead o’ helpin’ her when she was hurtin’. She’s gonna have bruises from how hard she was strugglin’ just then and I don’t like seein’ her with bruises, _dong ma_?”

“Jayne!” Mal roared from his place beside the couch. “Stand down!”

Jayne didn’t look at him, just stood over Dr. Ashokh glaring down at him. The doctor, wisely, had decided to stay where he was rather than risk getting hit again.

“Sorry, cap’n,” Jayne said. “Man needed hitting.”

“Reckon he did,” Mal said. “But he’s an Alliance medical officer and we’ve just put Corporal Guerin in th’ position of having to ignore an assault on one of his people or arrest a man for doin’ what’s only natural.”

Mal really didn’t know what he would do if the corporal decided to arrest Jayne. Could they fight with River down and _Serenity_ locked onto a gorram Alliance cruiser? He didn’t think so, but he would be damned if he was going to lose another member of his crew.

Corporal Guerin had gone pasty white and was staring at Jayne with frightened rabbit eyes. He obviously had no idea what to do and Mal realized he had a finite window in which to influence what was going to happen here.

“Apologies for my man, Corporal,” he said, meeting the fed’s frightened gaze squarely. “Don’t mean t’ make your job tougher. Must be mighty hard bein’ out in the black, bringin’ law and order to folk like us who ain’t never seen no justice but what can be delivered at th’ point of a gun.”

Mal might be a terrible liar, but he’d always had a flair for a rousing motivational speech. Everything he’d just said might be _fèihuà_ [9] as far as he was concerned, but her knew it spoke to all the ideals this little Alliance worm had been force-fed since he was in diapers. Sure enough, the corporal’s eyes widened and he swallowed as the weight of the responsibility Mal was placing on his shoulders sank in. He squared his pudgy jaw and looked at the doctor.

“Dr. Ashokh,” he said, his voice quavering just a little, “As representatives of the Alliance, it is our duty to demonstrate a more enlightened way to resolve— ah— differences of opinion. Please apologize to Captain Reynolds and his, er, his man.”

Dr. Ashokh gave Corporal Guerin a ‘you-have-to-be-kidding-me’ face, for which Mal couldn’t blame him. Mal knew first-hand what Jayne’s right hook felt like, even without the man’s full weight behind it, and the doctor’s jaw had to be hurting like hell.

“Jayne!” Mal said, stepping in when the silence stretched on too long. “Show th’ good Alliance folk that we’re capable of learnin’ some civilized behavior. You’ve had plenty of practice apologizin’ to loose-lipped Core docs. Use it.”

Jayne immediately picked up on the subtext of the speech: _pretend he’s Simon_. With a growl, the big merc reached down and hauled Dr. Ashokh unceremoniously to his feet.

“Apologies, doc,” he said, not sounding in the least bit apologetic. “Won’t happen again.”

He made a show of brushing off the doctor’s uniform.

Dr. Ashokh stared at Jayne in trepidation, obviously thinking that the merc was about to send him through the wall. Probably a good instinct. A civilized Jayne was a frightening and unpredictable animal.

“Don’t worry,” the doctor said, retrieving his urbane manner with an effort. “I’m always getting punched for pointing out potential cases of domestic abuse.”

Jayne growled low in his throat and his shoulders tensed again.

“Jayne!” Mal said sharply. “Simmer down! The man may not have th’ sense God gave a dung beetle, but that ain’t our concern. Our concern is lettin’ these fellows do their jobs and sendin’ ‘em on their way. _Dong ma_?”

Jayne relaxed very slowly.

“ _Shi_ , Cap’n,” he growled.

“Corporal, alright with you if Jayne takes your people around th’ ship now?” Mal asked. “I need your uniforms off my boat before I can see t’ my wife, and I think puttin’ some distance between him and your doctor may be th’ best thing for everyone at this particular moment.”

“Yes, Captain Reynolds, I think that might be wise,” Corporal Guerin agreed, struggling to keep his voice from squeaking.

Mal looked at Jayne and jerked his head towards the cargo bay.

“Get to it,” he said, “And no more trouble.”

Jayne gave a tight nod and lumbered toward the door. Mal looked at the corporal, trying to appear desperate and managing irritated.

“I gotta keep an eye on her,” he said, nodding towards River’s now-limp form. “Can you try’n keep him from gettin’ into it with any more of your men? He’s loyal, but he ain’t all that bright. Needs a firm hand, ‘specially when he’s riled.”

Jayne’s muffled cough told Mal that he’d heard that and would be making the captain pay for it later, but the corporal squared his shoulders and nodded.

“Of course, Captain Reynolds,” he said. “You have my word, this inspection will be completed without any further incidents.”

With that, he turned and followed Jayne out, his spine ramrod straight, radiating importance. Dr. Ashokh watched him go with a speculative gleam in his eye. When both men had disappeared, he turned and looked at Mal.

“Did you just order the whiniest brat in _Cortez’s_ Inspection Division to babysit your crewman and make him think it was his idea?” he asked delightly.

Mal’s gaze sharpened and he quickly re-assessed the man in front of him. Dr. Ashokh was a mean sum-bitch who liked poking people just to see them squirm, no doubt about it, but under that puppy-kicking personality was a man who didn’t like authority any more than Mal did. And here he was stuck on an Alliance cruiser in the middle of an asteroid belt with nothing to do but cause trouble. Everything, from his less-than-pristine uniform to his unshaven face to his lack of respect for the corporal, was beginning to make a whole lot more sense.

“Way I see it, Jayne’s babysittin’ him,” Mal replied calmly. “‘Course, he don’t know that, so I’d be obliged if we could keep it between ourselves.”

“I like you, Captain,” Dr. Ashokh said with a slightly diabolical smile.

Mal blinked in disbelief.

“My man just used your face as a punchin’ bag,” he said. “I would think you’d be holdin’ some sort of grudge at this point.”

The doctor just rubbed his jaw absently and ambled over and looked down at River.

“He cares about your wife very much,” Dr. Ashokh said.

It was meant to sound like an observation, an excuse for Jayne’s behavior, but Mal wasn’t dumb. He knew when he was being baited.

“Seems he does at that,” he said easily. “Good t’ know somethin’s goin’ right on this boat for a change.”

Mal smiled inwardly in satisfaction as the doctor’s face betrayed his surprise. Oh, he was a bad, bad man. But, then, so was the doctor, as his next words confirmed.

“Interesting,” he said, considering Mal thoughtfully. “Does it make you feel more like a man, having him desire what you have? Or do you just like watching people suffer?”

“You just keep tryin’ t’ figure that out,” Mal said, unable to stop his smile. “Meanwhile, you can tell me what you gave her.”

“I gave her a sedative,” the doctor said, still studying Mal with a puzzled frown. “Or did you think she just fell asleep because she got tired?”

“I know you gave her a sedative,” Mal said impatiently. “What I want t’ know is, how long will she be out and how loopy will she be when she wakes up? I got a ship t’ run.”

“Oh, of course,” the doctor said. “You need her to run the _ship_. I’m sure that her skills are _essential_ to keeping everything well… oiled.”

Mal didn’t stand up. River was still restless and he wasn’t prepared to risk her tumbling off the couch. Instead, he settled for another cold look.

“You just don’t learn, do you?” he said. “You’ve already been beat up once for runnin’ your mouth, now you’re fixin’ t’ do it again?”

The doctor gave him a small, amused smile.

“Ah, but you don’t seem to be as… quick with your fists as your employee,” he said. “Either you have more self-control, or you don’t care about her as much as your hired muscle does. Either way, I think I’m safe.”

“See, this is where you seem t’ be uncomprehendin’,” Mal said. “Only reason it was Jayne beatin’ on you and not me is that when Jayne does it, it looks like an accident. Big dumb merc got out of hand— easy t’ smooth over. But make no mistake, we are in full accord on this point, so you will keep a civil tongue in your head when you’re talkin’ about my wife. Now, how long will she be out and how much recovery time are we lookin’ at when she wakes up? Bear in mind that she’s our pilot, so you need t’ be thinkin’ in terms of when she’ll be fit t’ fly.”

“Your _pilot_?” the doctor said. “She isn’t old enough to buy a drink, never mind have a pilot’s license.”

“You really ain’t been out here long, have you doc?” Mal said. “Drinking age is eighteen on most o’ the rim worlds— there’s a few where it’s sixteen and some where there ain’t no laws one way or t’other. But, t’ answer your question, she’s fully licensed as a transport pilot. I wouldn’t have her flyin’ th’ ship if she weren’t.”

Of course, he had planned on doing just that, but thanks to River’s deviousness, she actually _did_ have a pilot’s license, a _legit_ license, although they’d gotten it in a less-than-reputable way. It wasn’t like it wasn’t on the up-and-up as far as her passing the exam, it was just that the place they’d gone had been a little… lax about her background information. And River had used the first license to get another one from a more upstanding source, so now, even if the original discrepancy was discovered, _Serenity_ was in the clear.

“Well, unless you want to become an ornament on an asteroid, she shouldn’t be flying anything for at at least ten hours,” Dr. Ashokh said. “Possibly twelve, considering her body weight.”

“Good t’ know,” Mal said.

“Considering what I just saw, I’m surprised that you let her anywhere near the cockpit,” the doctor said. “You don’t seem like the kind of man who would let someone so unstable fly your ship.”

Mal felt his chest clench. Without really thinking about it, he reached out and stroked River’s hair.

“She ain’t normally like this,” he said.

“Did you know about the PTSD when you married her?” the doctor pressed.

Mal sighed. The man just didn’t quit. Now Mal was a man who abused his wife because she’d tricked him into marrying her without telling him about her mental condition.

“Our medic had her on somethin’,” he said, avoiding the can of worms the doctor was busily trying to pry open. “Kept her from havin’ that sort of… episode. But we… lost him a while back and she ain’t had anything in a while.”

“Can you tell me what he was giving her?” the doctor asked.

“No, I can’t,” Mal said. “Whatever it was weren’t exactly labeled, you understand?”

“Oh, of course,” Dr. Ashokh said, shaking his head. “Black market. Working on the _Cortez_ , it’s easy to forget where the rest of the rim gets its medicine.”

Mal respected him slightly more for that. He hadn’t expected the Alliance doctor to know that pretty much the only drugs to be had out on the rim were black market, unless you were affiliated with Alliance. And black market drugs did not usually come with pretty labels. You were lucky if the sellers even knew what they were half the time.

“Do you still have the vial it came in?” the doctor asked.

“Think so,” Mal said, frowning. “Why?”

The doctor crouched down beside him, looking at the River with a strange expression.

“I know a woman on Canmar,” he said. “She’s doesn’t sell black market goods, she just buys drugs from people who need some ready cash. I give her Alliance-grade medicine in return for… things I can’t get from our requisitions department. Anyways, she’s got a pretty good lab set-up for identifying products when her suppliers don’t know what they’ve got. She might be able to tell you what was in that vial.”

“ _What_?” Mal said. “Are you tryin’ t’ _help_ us?

“Look,” Dr. Ashokh said testily, “I’m not technically supposed to be treating civilians, and even if I was, there’s too many possible drugs in too many combinations for me to recommend something for your wife without an extensive workup. But if Marie can figure out what your medic was having success with, you should be able to find it, if not here, then somewhere else.”

“Why’re you bein’ so nice all of a sudden?” Mal asked.

Dr. Ashokh shrugged.

“I told you,” he said, “I like you.”

“You think I’m a _hàosè tuófēng_ [10] who likes t’ screw with people’s heads,” Mal snapped.

“Like I said,” Dr. Ashokh said, “I like you. Besides, it’s not the girl’s fault she married a complete asshole. It can happen to anybody, just ask my ex-wife.”

 

***

 

Half an hour later, they disengaged from the _Cortez_ and resumed their approach to Canmar. Mal held _Serenity’s_ yoke in his hands and breathed deep and even, unable to quite believe that they had simply walked away from the encounter. Jayne sat in the lounge and watched River as she slept, tossing her head fretfully and whimpering in her sleep. And River dreamed of needles and knives and a universe of fire running through her head.

 

[1] Fuck itself sideways

[2] Little sister

[3] Long Arm

[4] Dear, sweet baby Buddha

[5] Horses’ balls and pandas’ tears

[6] Husband

[7] Little flower

[8] Cesspool scum

[9] Bullshit

[10] Lecherous hump


	5. A Flood of Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

River woke up tasting gold ocher and listening to the sounds of burnt sugar and salt. When she opened her eyes, she saw rushing wind and watched alarm bells tumbling through space like unmoored stars. When she felt gunsmoke and acrid sulphur on her skin, wrapping around her arms like worry, she tried to scream, but her voice was lost somewhere between her diaphragm and her lips. All she could see, all she could say, all she could feel, was the endless flood of stars.

 

***

 

“Mal! Mal, get down here!”

Jayne’s voice came over the intercom, rough with anger and fear, and Mal dropped the post-flight checklist he’d been going through and took off for the passenger lounge at a dead run. He found Jayne crouching on the floor of the lounge with his empty hands raised in a gesture of peace and River curled in the corner, arms around her knees, rocking back and forth.

“ _Suǒyǒu de tián mā_ ,”[1] Mal said.

He stepped into the room and moved slowly to stand beside Jayne, eyes fixed on the huddled figure in the corner.

“All I did was touch her, Mal,” Jayne said, his voice low and lost. “She woke up and I took her shoulders and she went completely off her nut.” He looked up, confusion and something else in his face. “A few hours ago, she _wanted_ me t’ touch her!” he said angrily. “You were there, Mal, you know it’s true. And now…I was bein’ real gentle, Mal— just tryin’ t’ make her feel safe.”

“Oh, _dìyù jīntiān qiāo_ ,”[2] Mal said. “River, darlin’, can you hear me?”

There was no response from the girl in the corner. She just kept rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Mal moved forward cautiously until he could crouch down in front of River.

“Albatross?” he said, reaching out and laying a gentle hand on her arm.

She let out a strangled sound and batted his hand away. Mal backed up hurriedly and she went back to rocking.

“Think we may have us a situation here,” he said.

 

***

 

Three hours later, River’s condition was not much improved. She had regained some measure of mobility and was pacing unevenly back and forth across the room, but her eyes were still unfocused and she didn’t seem to hear anything they said. When they tried to touch her, she reacted with hysterical violence and they were forced to simply watch, helpless, as she wandered in a strange sort of daze.

“The check-in with Gorgon is scheduled for 1200 hours and I got the refuel team comin’ in fifteen minutes,” Mal said, running his hand through his hair distractedly. “I planned on us splittin’ up, gettin’ this done as quick as we could, but…”

They stood side by side near the door to the infirmary, watching helplessly as River wandered along the wall, shaking her head like she had water in her ear.

“Mal, you gotta deal with Gorgon,” Jayne said. “Woman thinks I’m a _yǎ niú de shūshu_ ,[3] ain’t gonna take me any more serious than a booger. Besides, she gives me an uncomfortableness.”

“Think you can deal with th’ refuel team and keep an eye on River?” Mal asked.

Jayne looked dubious, but shrugged.

“If we lock th’ hatchways, hopefully she’ll stay put,” he said. “She don’t look like she even knows what a door _is_ at the moment, never mind a lock. But if she wants out, won’t matter what I do.”

“Okay,” Mal said, “Let’s get to it and get the hell off this asteroid.”

“Mal,” Jayne asked, “What do you think’s wrong with her?”

Mal shook his head.

“I wish I knew, Jayne,” he said. “I really do.”

 

***

 

Mal moved through the space station with nervous impatience, watching the ragged, flashy swirl of humanity swirl around him suspiciously. He had no real reason to expect trouble, but the ‘verse was obviously out to screw with him today and being knifed by some crash-head looking for his next fix would be just the sort of thing that would happen right now.

The address Dr. Ashokh had given him was on C-level Theta, squeezed in between a noodle house and a Sono-Mat. Mal had left early for the meet with Gorgon, telling Jayne he had an errand to do, but he hadn’t explained about his conversation with Dr. Ashokh. River’s latest breakdown seemed to be hitting the mercenary hard and Mal didn’t want to have to deal with a belligerent Jayne barging into some drug trader’s shop and demanding that she fix River right _rutting_ now.

Mal pushed open the door to an incongruous tinkle of bells and stepped into the dark, pungent heat of a tiny, cluttered space. _Nest_ was the term that came to mind, although not of the bird variety. Squirrels and rats made this kind of nest, bits and bobs all jumbled up into a nice, cozy cocoon. There was nobody behind the counter, but Mal could hear movement in the back and by the time he’d made his way across the small amount of open floor, a short, comfortable woman with gray hair and a plump face had emerged from the curtained door.

“Hello, dear,” the comfortable lady said. “What can I do for you today?”

“You Marie?” Mal asked, refusing to let his guard down.

He’d been shot enough times by Patience not to fall for the nice old lady act.

She gave him a friendly smile that, while it reached her eyes, was not without a touch of weary assessment.

“I am,” she said. “May I inquire who’s asking?”

“Name’s Malcolm,” Mal said. “Dr. Ashokh off th’ _Cortez_ gave me your name, told me maybe you could help me out with a little medicine-related problem.”

“I see,” Marie said, studying him thoughtfully. “Buying or selling, Malcolm?”

“Neither,” Mal said, pulling three empty vials out of his pocket and holding it up. “I need t’ know what was in these and the doc said you might be able to do that.”

Interest flared in her eyes and she reached out automatically to take the vials, studying them with that single-minded intensity Mal had come to associate with people who loved their job.

“Core packaging,” she said. “Fancy. What did they do?”

“That’s th’ hell of it,” Mal said, “I got no idea.”

She looked up at him with a small, knowing smile.

“Come now,” she said. “You can do better than that.”

“I’m telling th’ truth,” he said. “They was keeping Ri— uh, that is, they was makin’ someone slightly less crazy, but it weren’t any sort of mental ailment. What I mean is, th’ craziness were a result of brain damage, not yer normal run-of-the mill nuttiness.”

“So they acted as an antipsychotic, but for a psychosis that was physically induced,” Marie said, going back to studying the vials. “Fascinating.”

She looked up at him.

“I can take a look,” she said, “Give me two hours, I’ll see what I can do.”

 

***

 

River had always been— was always, would always be, always already had been— good at seeing patterns. Numbers, words, shapes, they all seemed to fall into order for her as easily as sand falling through an hourglass. So it was easier for River than it would have been for someone else to sort the maelstrom in her head into some semblance of order. But right now she lacked the strength to turn the patterns she saw into _meaning_. She could see a million million constellations in her mind, but she did not even know where she was.

She was drowning and she needed a ship to save her.

There was a bright point in her mind, a star in an ocean of stars, and somehow she knew that if she could just get to it, it would turn into a ship and bring her to land. But it was very far away and there was so much chaos in between.

_Focus._

It was so hard to focus. It was as though the sinews of her mind had been cut— flesh laid open, cartilage severed with a gleaming knife. That was why she was drowning, she had no strength to swim.

 _Purpose_.

She had to reach to the ship.

 

***

 

“Captain Reynolds,” said the security guard at Medusa’s Redemption, “This way, if you please.”

The tall, ebony-skinned woman with the long, heavy cornrows and the elaborate makeup didn’t look particularly like a security guard, but Gorgon’s security never did. Mal, however, had spent enough years with Zoe to recognize gorgeous and deadly when he saw it.

He followed her across the club and through the beaded curtain into the back room where Gorgon, Queen of the Zyrah Belt, held court. The room was like Inara’s shuttle used to be, only with bolder patterns and headier incense. There was also just a breath of synthetic poppy overlaying the spice in the air.

Gorgon lay, half reclining, on an ottoman couch, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette in a long holder. Gorgon was a petite woman with startlingly abundant gray curls, skin like caramel, and dark eyes whose shape and depth revealed more clearly than DNA that, in her, all the races of Earth-that-Was had reached blended perfection.

“Ah, Malcolm Reynolds,” she said, her startling eyes crinkling into a smile. “It is so good to see you again.”

Her voice was deep and musical, with a slightly sibilant quality.

Mal nodded his head, but didn’t smile. He might not make a big deal of it like Jayne, but there was something about Gorgon that gave him an uncomfortableness too.

“Gorgon,” he said politely.

Gorgon laughed and looked at him in that creepifying way she had. She _knew_ how jumpy she made him and she loved it.

“I heard something verrry interesting today, Captain Reynolds,” Gorgon said, taking a hit off of her cigarette and letting the smoke out slowly. “I heard that a certain Firefly transport passed through an Alliance checkpoint without so much as a whisper of suspicion.”

“That a fact?” Mal said, wondering how in the ‘verse she knew that.

“Oh-a yes,” Gorgon said, smiling. “Most impressive. One wonders how the captain managed it. Especially in a Firefly.”

Mal shrugged. He hated games like this.

“Couldn’t say,” he said.

“There are people who find this very interesting, Captain Reynolds,” Gorgon said softly, watching the smoke from her cigarette rise towards the ceiling.

Mal tensed.

“Is that so?” he asked. “Don’t seem like it’s any concern of theirs, whoever they may be.”

Gorgon laughed.

“I think you misunderstand me, Captain Reynolds,” she said. “These people would like to become better acquainted with a man who can slip by an Alliance checkpoint in a ship that is notorious for its smuggling capabilities. They might, perhaps, wish to hire him to transport things that those conducting such inspections do not need to know about.”

“Well now,” Mal said, relaxing slightly, “That does alter the landscape.”

Gorgon sat up, her movements slow and sinuous, and stubbed out her cigarette in a gaudy ashtray.

“I am glad we understand each other better now,” she said. “But for now, to business. You have Yitani’s share for me, do you not?”

“That I do,” Mal said, reaching into his coat and pulling out the money. “And you tell him from me that he’s lucky he’s getting paid, ‘cause his contact showed up bound and determined to stiff us.”

Gorgon narrowed her eyes.

“I have warned Yitani that Anapoulos is not good business,” she said. “The man has a hole in his soul that no amount of gold or blood can fill.”

“Don’t know about that,” Mal said uncomfortably, remembering River’s half-hysterical revelation about Anapoulos on the take-off from Harvest. “Just know I don’t like it when people try and cheat me.”

“I apologize on behalf of Yitani, Captain Reynolds,” Gorgon said, taking the bag of coin and sliding it into a pocket. “Now, may I offer you some refreshment? Perhaps we can discuss…”

A sudden commotion outside in the club caused Gorgon to break off abruptly. Mal’s hand went automatically to the butt of his gun as he turned and moved towards the door, Gorgon behind him. Before they got there, another exotically beautiful security guard— gilt and ivory with a china doll face— burst through the beaded curtain.

“What is going on, Lisette?” Gorgon asked.

“Damned if I know, boss,” Lisette said. “Better come take a look.”

They moved cautiously through the curtain and into the room where, it appeared, a rather intense fight was taking place. One of the security guards was down, knocked out cold, and two other were…

“ _Tā mā de_ ,” Mal swore.

River was tiny compared to the two amazons facing her, but she didn’t seem to be having any trouble holding her own. She was in evasive mode, not kill mode, Mal could tell by the way she avoided the women’s necks and heads. She was still dangerous, though, and he winced a little as her foot connected with one of the guard’s ribs— that was going to hurt tomorrow. She danced away again, ducking and spinning to avoid the blows aimed at her, dress swirling gracefully. It would actually have been a thing of beauty if she wasn’t beating up on employees of a very dangerous person.

And if there hadn’t been tears streaming down her face.

“Stand down!”

Gorgon’s shout rang through the club. The two security guards stiffened, then stepped back from River, dropping into defensive crouches. Mal prayed that River wouldn’t continue the attack and apparently someone up there was listening, because she just stood in the center of the room, hair wild and disheveled, tears coursing silently down her face.

“This one is _mìngyùn gǎndòng_ ,”[4] Gorgon said more softly, stepping past Mal and approaching River slowly. “One must never interfere with those who have the hand of fate on them.”

Gorgon reached River and studied her with compassionate eyes.

“Oh-a, little one,” she murmured. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the ‘verse in your heart. Fate can be a cruel mistress, and no mistake.”

River stared at Gorgon for a moment, face unreadable, tears still falling. Then, without changing expression, she turned away from the older woman and began walking across the room towards Mal. The captain slid his gun back in its holster and waited, uncertain what to do. After how she had been acting back at the ship, he didn’t want to frighten her. The entire room was silent, watching the tiny assassin’s moves with nervous anticipation.

When she reached Mal, she stopped and he got a good look at her face. The misery and desperation in her eyes caused a terrible, clenching pain in his chest.

“Lost in the ocean,” she said, forcing the words out as though forming them were the most difficult thing in the world. Tears continued to pour down her cheeks. “Please…don’t let me drown.”

“Ain’t gonna drown, darlin’,” Mal said. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Lodestar,” she whispered. “Ship on the waves. Help me find the shore.”

Mal had no real idea what she meant, so he did the one thing that made sense to him.

“Come here, _qīn'ài de nǚhái_ ,”[5] he said, holding out his arms.

She practically fell into his embrace, sliding her hands under his jacket and pressing herself hard into his chest. Mal wrapped his arms around her, more relieved than he would have thought possible that she was letting him touch her again, and held her close.

“Got no idea what’s goin’ on, River-girl,” he said, “But we’ll figure it out.”

 

***

 

“You must be a verry special person, Captain Reynolds,” Gorgon said. “It is not every man who has one of the _mìngyùn gǎndòng_ walking through chaos and death to stand by his side.”

They were back in Gorgon’s private sitting room. Mal sat on the ottoman with River in his lap while Gorgon sat across from them, considering the unlikely pair with fathomless eyes. Gorgon’s security force was piled up just outside the beaded curtain, banished by their boss’s stern command, but not trusting her alone with the dubious transport captain and the tiny killer.

“Ain’t me that’s special,” Mal snapped.

He’d been trying to get Jayne on the con for the past ten minutes, but Jayne wasn’t answering and Mal was getting terribly edgy. He wanted to believe that River would never hurt her crew— not much at any rate— but his unreasoning need to expect the best from people had gotten him in trouble before— not to mention stranded naked in a desert on Belarafon. And if River had seriously harmed Jayne, he knew she’d never forgive herself.

“Well, if you are not special, how do you explain the fact that a girl with the ‘verse in her eyes walked through half my security force to find you?” Gorgon asked.

River hadn’t spoken since he’d folded her into his arms. She had just held onto him as though she was never going to let go and he’d had no little trouble persuading her to shift her grip so he could carry her into the back of the club. Now she sat in his lap, arms around his waist under the coat, face pressed into his chest. He had realized, a moment ago, that she was synching her breathing up with his.

“She’s crew,” Mal said curtly, refusing to look at Gorgon.

“Oa-h, she is more than that, I think,” Gorgon said.

Guilt, desire, and terror all blended together in Mal’s head and came out of his mouth as anger.

“What she is or is not is none a’ your concern!” he snapped. “Don’t need you doin’ your mystic mumbo-jumbo on her, Gorgon. In fact, be best if you left off speculatin’ altogether.”

“I do not need any ‘mystic mumbo-jumbo’ to know that you are married, Captain Reynolds,” Gorgon said, her voice vibrating with amusement. “That is what the wedding rings are for.”

The look of chagrin on Mal’s face must have been comical, because Gorgon broke into a full, rich laugh. She took her time with her amusement too, savoring it, and when at last she sobered, Mal knew he was blushing.

“Captain Reynolds,” she said, “I have seen many things in this ‘verse, most of them mysterious and strange. I have looked into that girl’s eyes and seen things that even I do not understand. Now, how do you explain that?”

Mal closed his eyes and dropped his head into River’s hair.

“I know how she got t’ be th’ way she is,” he said defeatedly. “But it don’t make it make sense. She shouldn’t be able t’ do th’ things she does, even bein’ what… that don’t matter. She can do the impossible and I can’t even help her when she’s havin’ a bad day.”

“She seems to think you can,” Gorgon said, smiling and gesturing to the girl in his arms.

At that moment, the con in Mal’s jacket crackled.

“ _Mal? Mal? Come in, Mal.”_

Mal grabbed for it, fumbling the button in his haste to answer.

“Where the _hell_ have you been?” he said, hiding his relief with a savage snarl.

“ _She's gone, Mal,_ ” Jayne said urgently. “ _She ain't on the ship_.”

“I know, you son of a bitch,” Mal yelled. “That's ‘cause she's sittin’ here in Gorgon’s t _ā mā de_ parlor!”

“ _She's_ there?” Jayne said. “Xièxiè fú.”[6]

“She's here,” Mal affirmed. Then, relenting, he added, “She ain't hurt.”

“Xièxiè fú” Jayne repeated. “Xièxiè dàcí dàbēi púsà.”[7]

Mal swallowed back his sympathy at hearing the relief in the other man's voice.

“Just get th’ hell over here, Jayne,” he said.

“Liǎojiě[8] _captain,”_ Jayne said, and cut the connection.

Gorgon was looking at Mal with a Cheshire-cat smile that made his stomach sink a little.

“That was a verry interesting conversation,” she said.

 

***

 

Jayne charged into Medusa’s Redemption like a freight train, brushing aside the security with absent frustration and heading for the back before he’d even properly realized that the gorgeous blonde hadn’t shot him where he stood. Gorgon must have told her people to expect him.

Good. He wasn’t stopping to chitchat.

He didn’t slow down until he was in Gorgon’s sitting room and could actually see River, present and unharmed, for himself.

“ _Gǎnxiè tā mā de_ ,”[9] he breathed in relief.

The next minute, though, anger overwhelmed relief.

“What th’ _hell_ , girl,” he said. “Why’d you go wanderin’ off like that?”

She didn’t move or speak, just lay curled in Mal’s arms, eyes open, but unseeing. Something cold and clammy slithered across his skin.

“She still ain’t really talkin’,” Mal said.

Jayne realized that both the captain and that creepy-assed Gorgon lady were staring at him and he thought, belatedly, of how it must have looked, him barging in half-cocked and yelling at the girl. Then what Mal said sank in and he broke out in a cold sweat.

“She crossed half th’ station still completely out a’ her head?” he said. “Oh, _wéifǎn wǒ de zǔxiān zhídào dì qī dài_.” [10]

“Yes, she did,” Mal said in that dangerous someone-is-going-to-die-and-soon voice of his. “You wanna tell me how that happened, Jayne?”

“Hell, Mal, I dunno,” Jayne said. “I was with th’ refuel team and when I went back t’ check on her, she was gone. Never saw her go, never heard a thing. Hell, you know there’s no holding her if she wants out.”

The last sentence came out sullen.

“Well, be that as it may—” Mal began, sounding like he was winding up for one hell of a sermon, but Gorgon, surprisingly, cut him off.

“That is enough,” she said sternly.

Mal and Jayne both looked at her, dumbfounded.

“I can see that you both love her verry much,” the scary lady said. “Now, do you want to help her?”

Jayne was going to protest that ‘love’ was a term only used to refer to his Ma, but Mal got his jaws working first.

“Now, look here—” Mal began.

Gorgon was having none of it. She rolled her eyes and cut him off.

“Do. You. Want. To. Help. Her?” she repeated very slowly.

Mal clenched his teeth over a sharp retort. Jayne was not so circumspect.

“You think you know how t’ help her?” he said. “No offense, lady, but you never even met Crazy Girl before t’day. Ain’t no way you can know what t’ do if’n even th’ captain don’t have a clue.”

“Your captain is blinded by his self-denial,” Gorgon said, “As you are by your self-doubt. Neither of you can see what is in front of you.”

“And what’s that?” Mal asked real quiet like.

Gorgon must have had balls of brass because she just smiled like Mal wasn’t a man at the end of his rope looking for someone to punch on until he felt better.

“That she doesn’t need anything you don’t have to give,” Gorgon said with an all-knowing smile.

“ _Shānyáng jīngyè_ ,”[11] Jayne said.

“ _Bì zuǐ_ , Jayne,” Mal snapped. He was glaring at Gorgon like he wanted to put a hole in her head. “I take it you have some sort of suggestion?” he said.

Gorgon smoothed the brightly patterned silk of her shirt.

“She crossed half of Canmar and took on my security to get to you,” she said, “This suggests to me that she knows you can help her. Tell me, Captain Reynolds, what did she say to you before you took her in your arms?”

“What does that have t’ do with anything?” Mal snapped. “She wasn’t makin’ sense. She ain’t been makin’ sense since before—”

He stopped, clearly reluctant to give Gorgon any more information about River, _Serenity_ , or their run-in with the Alliance.

“Oh-a, humor a silly mystic, Captain,” Gorgon said with tooth-jarring sweetness.

Jayne shivered. He’d heard Zoe use that tone a time or two and it had always spelled a world of trouble.

Mal made an exasperated sound.

“She said somethin’ about bein’ lost at sea,” he said. “Asked me not t’ let her drown.”

Gorgon made a choking sound. Jayne tensed, wondering whether to hit her on the back or make a run for it in case she croaked, but then he realized that she was trying to hold back a laugh and couldn’t. He relaxed, scowling.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” he said, doing his best to be menacing.

“Your pardon, Master Mercenary,” Gorgon said, taking a deep breath, a smile still playing over her lips. “It is simply that, when trying to untangle the mysteries of the universe, one rarely encounters symbols so… obvious.”

Jayne’s scowl deepened.

“So?” he growled. “She likes metaphors.”

Mal did the same double take he had in Badger’s office when Jayne had used the word “pretentious.” Honestly, did Mal think that just because Jayne hadn’t had a lot of schooling he couldn’t _listen_?

“Well,” Mal said, “You mind explainin’ to us what’s so obvious so we can be on our merry?”

“Captain,” Gorgon said, “The girl is lost in her own mind and she needs you to bring her out.”

Mal blinked.

“Ehwha _hmm_?” he said.

“I know a Seer when I see one,” Gorgon said, leaning forward with a hypnotic look. “There is a universe behind that girl’s eyes. And right now, she is lost in that universe and she needs you to find her.”

Jayne’s skin was pretty much all gooseflesh at this point.

“And how do you suggest I do that?” Mal asked, trying to hang on to his calm even though he was clearly even more unsettled than Jayne.

Gorgon smiled a truly gut-chilling smile.

“Let me help you,” she said. 

***

“Captain, I have a bad feeling about this,” Jayne said as Mal sipped cautiously at the steaming cup Gorgon had just handed him.

“You ain’t the only one,” Mal said.

Whatever was in the cup tasted like _mǎ xiǎobiàn_ [12] and made the roof of his mouth instantly numb, which was not entirely unexpected, but was disappointing all the same.

“Fear of the unknown is only useful so long as you do not allow it to limit your actions,” Gorgon commented from her place across the room.

Jayne had joined Mal and River on the ottoman, looking uncomfortable and suspicious, as though he expected the velvet slipcover to attack him. Mal found himself wishing he’d ever seen Jayne in Inara’s shuttle back when it was all prettified. Jayne being Jayne was one of the few things that had ever ruffled Inara’s Companion-trained feathers and him eying her quarters like they were a death trap would have been a sight to see.

“Mal,” Jayne said— practically whined, truth be told— “Ain’t one eerie-ass crazy woman talking in _tā mā de_ riddles enough?”

“Now ya mention it,” Mal said, forcing down another sip of that ghastly drink, “She does sound a mite like River. Takes one to know one, I guess.”

“What’s that stuff do, anyways?” Jayne asked, gesturing at the cup.

“The Cup of the Third Eye allows the drinker to see what cannot normally be seen,” Gorgon said softly.

She was sitting up very straight in her chair, hands folded in front of her, watching Mal with unnervingly sharp eyes.

“It’s drugs, Jayne,” Mal said. “Really _xīngxì de làngfèi_ [13] tastin’ drugs.”

“Captain,” Jayne said, “Explain t’ me again how this is supposed t’ help th’ crazy girl?”

“The little Seer has become lost in her mind,” Gorgon said, sounding resigned, but patient. “She believes that Captain Reynolds can save her, but it is difficult for a normal mind to walk the paths that a Seer travels on. In order to find where she has wandered, he must see as s

h“Uh-huh,” Jayne said. “And we believe this because… a creepy lady tells us it’s true?"

“No, Jayne,” Mal said, blinking as the words slipped out much more kindly than he’d meant them to, “We believe this ‘cause we are outa options. Don’t worry, though, worst that can happen is I do somethin’ embarrassin’. And if anything goes wrong, you just…”

“Shoot ‘em, captain?” Jayne supplied when Mal trailed off.

“Sure,” Mal said absently. “You can do that. Politely, mind. Don’t wanna…”

The colors in the room had become brighter, but they had also begun to run together in a worrisome way.“ _Lā shǐ_ ,” Jayne said, but his voice sounded really far away all of a sudden.

 

***

 

Mal dreamed of Serenity Valley more often than _Serenity_ got fresh food, so he wasn’t really surprised when he looked around and found himself there, crouched behind a sandbag barricade with shells bursting overhead. What did surprise him was that, instead of Zoe crouching beside him, it was Wash, carrying Zoe’s gun and wearing one of his Godawful shirts.

“Gee, Mal,” Wash said, looking around, “Could this get any more clichéd?”

Mal shook his head and looked at Wash in disbelief.

“Beg pardon?” he said.

“I mean, Zoe always said that you never leave Serenity, you just find a way to live there, but _really_? You start tripping on Gorgon’s funny tea and _this_ is the first place you end up?”

“Wash, I hope that you did not come back from th’ dead— wearing _that_ shirt— just t’ criticize my taste in hallucinations,” Mal said.

Wash leapt up and fired his gun over the barricade and dropped down again.

“C’mon, Mal, you know I’m not really here,” he said. He held his free hand up like a com. “‘Hello, Mal, this is your subconscious speaking. Come in, Mal. It’s been so long since we’ve chatted, we have _so_ much to talk about!’”

“ _T_ _ā mā de,_ ” Mal said, ducking as another shell burst overhead. “You’re sure annoying enough t’ be Wash.”

Wash shrugged, then dived out of the way as the body of an Independent soldier fell almost on top of him, face obliterated by a bullet from one of the big pivot guns on the hill above their position.

“It’s a gift,” he said airily.

“ _Sir,_ ” a voice said over the radio that had shoved under a rock, “ _We’ve lost C Company! Their position got hit on that last strafing run!”_

Mal flinched, even though he knew that the voice was just a memory.

“So, if this is all me hallucinating, why ain’t Zoe here?” Mal asked.

Wash gave him a sad look.

“Because you have to believe Zoe’s alive, Mal,” he said. “And if she’s alive, but… elsewhere, she can’t help you with what’s going on right now. I, on the other hand, am dead, and thus perfectly free to assist in your current endeavor.”

“Which is lookin’ for River,” Mal said.

“Yes indeedy,” Wash said. “Speaking of which, don’t you think it’s time we got on that?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re kinda under fire, here, Wash,” Mal said.

“Uh, Mal, remember the part where _this is your hallucination_?” Wash said. “If we’re under fire, that means that you put us here. The question is, why?”

“‘I have made a covenant with my eyes; how then could I gaze at a virgin?’”[14] a deep resonant voice intoned.

Mal turned sharply and saw Shepherd Book, standing amid the bodies of his men, Bible in hand, looking down at Mal with a stern look.

“Whoa,” said Wash. “That’s cryptic. I mean, a classic case of cryptocity, right there.”

“You have looked upon the virgin and have taken pleasure in her defilement,” Book said to Mal. “The fires of Serenity Valley are nothing to what awaits you in the hereafter.”

A shell burst behind the shepherd and Mal heard screaming.

“Wow, Mal,” Wash said. “I mean, seriously? ‘Defilement’? How sanctimonious and condescending can you get? Didn’t you fight a war to do away with crap like that? _This_ war, in point of fact?”

Book walked forward, stepping on the bodies of dead soldiers with chilling disregard. His eyes never left Mal’s.

“ _If you take sexual advantage of her, you're going to burn in a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for child molesters and people who talk at the theater_ ,” Book said, ignoring Wash. “You know why I said that, don’t you Captain? Because your hands are not fit to touch innocence. Innocence should be protected, not besmirched with blood and ashes.”

“Uh, Mal, you know that’s _not_ what the Shepherd was like, right?” Wash asked. “He was actually a really nice guy.”

“‘If there is a betrothed virgin, and a man meets her in the city and lies with her, then you shall bring them both out to the gate of that city, and you shall stone them to death,’”[15] Book went on relentlessly.

“Oh, come on Preacher!” Mal said, getting annoyed. “Even I know that don’t apply to our situation. Besides, ain’t you somewhat behind th’ times? Didn’t Jesus come along and say ‘He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her’?[16] If yer gonna go quotin’ th’ Bible, get yer history right.”

“ _Finally_!” Wash said.

And suddenly they were standing on _Serenity_ in the corridor leading to the passenger dorms and Book was smiling at Mal, humor in his kind eyes.

“I always knew you used to be a man of faith, Captain,” he said, “But I confess, I had no idea that you knew your Bible _that_ well.”

“Ain’t a man of faith,” Mal said irritably, “Not anymore. Told you when I took you on, Preacher, you’re welcome on my boat. God ain’t.”

“I’m beginning to see why,” Book said.

“Okay, now we’ve sorted that out, can we go find the tiny crazy person?” asked Wash.

“Not yet, Wash,” Book said. “The captain has to understand what I actually meant by my speech on the levels of hell.”

“I get it, Preacher,” Mal said. “Shouldn’t be thinkin’ on innocent girls that way. Ain’t right.”

“That’s not what I meant at all, Mal,” Book said. “Please remember, I was under the impression at the time that your bride was an unlettered woman from a backwater planet who had essentially been sold into indenture. I was trying to tell you that anything she offered you would be based on obligation and ignorance, neither of which are moral reasons for sexual congress.”

“And what River might offer is so different?” Mal asked. “She’s on my crew, looks t’ me t’ keep her safe. And she’s not right, don’t know what she’s doin’ half the time. Plus, she’s just a kid, and a gorram innocent one at that. Pretty sure Jayne’s th’ first person t’... well, anything with her.”

Wash clapped his hands over his ears.

“Ahhh!” he said. “Jayne and River, doing the unmentionable? Oh, that I had _never_ died to hear this!”

“River may be inexperienced, Mal,” Book said, “But you know that she is anything but ignorant. She cannot always explain herself, but she knows exactly what she is doing. You told Inara that you had come to trust River implicitly, even when you don’t know why she does the things she does. Why is it so hard to trust her on this?”

Mal opened his mouth, but found he didn’t know what to say.

“I’m not saying that you should force yourself on the girl, Mal,” Book said. “I’m simply saying that you should trust her to know what she wants… and when she decides to take it, remember that sexual union between consenting— and _married_ — adults is not, generally speaking, a sin.”

“Amen!” Wash said. “ _Now_ can we go find River?”

Mal heaved a sigh. He couldn’t even win an argument with Book in his own head.

“I always knew th’ day you two died and ganged up on me would be th’ day I lost control of this ship,” he said. What the hell, it was just a hallucination, anyways. “Okay, let’s go find our girl.”

And then they were standing on the bridge and Wash was sitting at the controls and _Serenity_ was tumbling through space while stars and worlds rushed by at dizzying speeds.

“Did you see that?!” Wash yelped as what looked like a moon whooshed over their heads, almost scraping _Serenity’s_ hull.

“How th’ hell are we supposed t’ find her in this?” Mal yelled, gripping the back of Wash’s chair.

“Belief,” Book said.

Despite the crazy flying Wash was doing, Book was standing placidly in the middle of the bridge, hands folded, smiling at the terrifying scene before them.

“Oh, for…” Mal said. “Preacher, what did I just say about God and my boat?”

“Mal, how many times do I have to tell you, when I say belief, I don’t necessarily mean belief in God,” Book said.

“ _Belief in what then?_ ” Mal demanded.

“Belief in River,” Book said calmly.

And then Mal was no longer on _Serenity_ ’s bridge, but was sitting alone in an open boat in the middle of the ocean. The sky was filled with rushing clouds and the waves were tossing the tiny vessel like a cork. When Mal looked over the side of the boat, he saw endless stars swirling below the water. And there, in the middle of that shifting maelstrom of light, was River, like he’d first seen her when he’d opened her cryo box, curled up naked as the days she was born.

Mal reached down into the water and grabbed her under her arms. She came up wet and gasping and he pulled her into the boat, wrapping her shivering, naked body up in his coat. She looked up at him with eyes that were swirling with the same stars he’d seen in the water.

“You found me,” she said softly. “I knew you would.”

“How?” he asked. “How’d you know?”

She looked up at him with so much trust that he felt his throat seize.

“Because you are my captain and I am your albatross,” she said.

She was shivering uncontrollably now and Mal pulled her to him, trying to warm her up with his own body even though he knew this was just a really crazy dope dream and she couldn’t actually feel it.

“Need to find our island now,” she said through chattering teeth, “Our still point in the ever-shifting seas.”

 

***

 

Mal had been out too gorram long. At least, that was Jayne’s opinion. In reality, he had no idea how long was too long, he wasn’t a gorram scientist or a gorram drug dealer. He just knew that he was sitting in Gorgon’s _t_ _ā mā de_ funny-smelling whorehouse of a room while his captain and his… well, crazy girl were down for the count. Meanwhile, Gorgon was sitting there like some freaky statue watching them all with those scary eyes of hers.

Yup, the situation was definitely not good, no matter how you looked at it. For one thing, if it came to a standoff, Jayne was no match for Gorgon by himself. The woman was too damned sneaky for words. For another, all this sitting and waiting gave him too much time to think and that was never good. A man only had to look at Mal to see just what kind of misery too much thinking got you.

Why hadn’t River come to him? That was the question that kept bugging him.

He had been right there outside the ship with the refuel team. But when she’d broken out of the lounge, she hadn’t come to find him, she’d crossed half of this damned asteroid to get to Mal. Crazy and lost and unable to even talk, she’d wandered through this sleazy pit-stop full of rough characters and desperate souls because she needed the captain.

Jayne Cobb was not usually prone to jealousy. Jealousy happened when a man wanted to be given something, but saw it being given to someone else instead. Jayne had always taken what he wanted— in the case of money or weapons— or bought it— in the case of women or booze. If someone else got what he wanted, he either shrugged it off or took it back. So this sick feeling he had when he thought about the fact that River had given her trust to Mal was unfamiliar territory and it scared the bejesus out of him.

It also brought up a whole other set of thoughts that he was completely unequipped to deal with, namely, _why_ she trusted Mal more than him. It wasn’t hard to figure out, of course, even Jayne could do that math. “Ariel” figured prominently in the equation, as did “Beaumonde.” More general things such as “mercenary” and “thug” also factored in there, as did “rim-rat” and “school drop-out.” When balanced against “Persephone,” “Jianying,” “Ariel-on-the-side-of-righteousness,” “Jubal Earley,” “Beaumonde-also-on-the-side-of-righteousness,” and, oh yeah, “MIRANDA,” along with “Independent soldier,” “captain of _Serenity_ ,” and “general hero type,” it was pretty clear why Mal would come out ahead on that comparison. None of this came as a shock, Jayne always known Mal was a way better man than him, but it had never mattered until now.

Jayne shifted uncomfortably on the ottoman, his eyes flicking to Gorgon, then back to Mal and River.

Mal was kind of slumped against the back of the sofa, head flopped down on River’s hair, eyes closed. Jayne would have said he was just sleeping if his breathing hadn’t been so weird, all fast and hard, like he was in the middle of a fight instead of sitting still. River was curled up on Mal like a tiny little cat, big blank eyes staring into space, but she’d started shaking.

Jayne frowned. In his experience, River shaking was not good. He looked helplessly at Gorgon, but Gorgon’s attention was still riveted on Mal.

Jayne wanted to do something, to reach out and rub River’s back or pat her hair, but he didn’t because, dammit, he didn’t know what’s going on, but she didn’t come to him. Whatever she needed right now, he was not the one who could give it to her.

Jayne was not generally the giving type, so it came as a hell of a surprise that _not_ having anything to give could hurt so much.

River was getting more and more restless, but Mal’s breathing was actually slowing down. Then, without warning, his head came up and his eyes snapped open. He winced and closed them again immediately, like that had been a really bad idea.

“Nnnugh,” he said. “ _T_ _ā mā de_ , that hurts.”

He sat there for a minute, looking peaky, then opened his eyes cautiously and peered down at River.

“How you doin’, darlin’?” he asked.

And just like that, she was back with them. Jayne couldn’t say how he knew, because nothing really changed, but there was something in her eyes, her face, the way she held her body in Mal’s arms, that told him she was _here_ , not _somewhere else_.

“Storm over the island,” she whispered. “Can’t go ashore.”

Okay, well, mostly here.

“Sorry, little one,” Mal said, closing his eyes again. “But at least you ain’t drownin’ no more, so that’s a start.”

“Want the island!” River said fretfully.

“Shhh,” Mal said, stroking her back. “You’ll find it. Just give it time, little Albatross. You’ve had a mighty hard day. I ain’t seen you that bad since right after you came on board.”

“Ocean running through the kingdom,” River says, face scrunching up with distress. “Build walls to keep from drowning, but walls are no good when the rocks are turned to water.”

“No, they ain’t,” Mal agreed easily, causing Jayne, who hadn’t understood the first thing she was saying, to clench his hands in frustration. “What d’you think turned all those rocks t’ water, sweetheart?”

“Poison in a sliver of silver,” River said.

Mal frowned.

“Huh?” he said.

“Captain Reynolds?” Gorgon broke in softly.

She had been quiet up until now, observing the interaction between River and Mal with interest. Now she leaned forward, eyes bright.

“Yeah?” Mal said, still trying to work out what River had said.

“Was she given any medication?” Gorgon asked. “An injection, perhaps?”

Mal’s face cleared.

“Of _course_ ,” he said. “The doc, back at the _Cortez_. He gave her a trank. ‘Sliver o’ sliver’— shoulda worked that out my ownself.” He looked back down at River. “Was that what put you all outa whack?” he asked. “The sedative?”

“Hard enough to hold back the water, don’t need the dam turning against me,” River said grumpily.

“Doc used t’ give you sedatives all th’ time, though,” Mal said. “Back… _t_ _ā mā de_. Back when you was crazy all th’ time.”

“Chicken, egg, chicken, egg,” River singsonged softly.

“I would imagine that not much could be worse for a Seer than a drug designed to weaken the mind’s defenses,” Gorgon put in quietly.

Mal scrubbed one hand over his face.

“I am _so_ sorry, little one,” he said. “If I’d known, I never woulda let that doctor near you.”

“Knew I shoulda hit him harder,” Jayne muttered to himself.

Nobody paid attention to him. That wasn’t unusual, but suddenly Jayne found it irksome.

“Don’t like the storm over the island,” River insisted, burrowing deeper into Mal’s chest.

“Hush now,” Mal said, still stroking her back. “Doc said th’ trank’d wear off in twelve hours or so, so I’m thinkin’ you may have t’ just wait it out, darlin’.”

“No!” River said. “ _Island_.”

Mal heaved a sigh and rubbed his forehead. Jayne took a vicious sort of satisfaction in seeing that Mal wasn’t such a miracle-worker after all.

“Don’t s’pose there’s any way we can repay you for your help, Gorgon,” he said. “But I am mighty grateful.”

Jayne had forgotten about Gorgon for a minute, but now he turned his attention back to her and got a nasty surprise. She was looking at them with a kind of… _gooey_ expression on her face, all soft and melty. Jayne suppressed the urge to run. When creepy witch ladies started getting melty over you, you knew you were in trouble.

“As a matter of fact,” Gorgon said, “There is something you can do for me.”

Mal nodded, as though he’d been expecting that.

“I have something that I need delivered,” Gorgon said. “It is… verry long overdue, but I have been waiting for the right ship to carry it.”

She stood gracefully and moved over to an old-fashioned rolltop desk. She slid open a drawer and pulled out a small lacquered box which she brought back to the sitting area. She set the box delicately on the coffee table and sat back down in her chair.

“I need you to take this to Imperia,” she said. “I will send the coordinates and the address to your ship before you leave.”

She opened the box to reveal a rather plain, but clearly much-used inkstone and a set of brusholders.

“As you can see, there is nothing inherently valuable— or suspicious— about the cargo,” she said. “It is a… message, of sorts, one that will not get you in trouble should anyone see it.”

“Ma’am,” Mal said, “While I am serious about owin’ you all kinds of gratitude, we can’t exactly afford to go all th’ way to Imperia on our own dime right now.”

Gorgon shook her head.

“Oh-a, you mistake me, Captain,” she said. “There will be a generous payment for getting the cargo to its destination. The favor…” she paused delicately, holding Mal’s gaze with her hypnotic eyes, “The favor is that you deliver it with discretion and compassion.”

Jayne would have had all kinds of questions at this point, but Mal just nodded.

“Imperia’s a commercial planet,” he said. “Gonna look mighty odd, us setting down there with no visible cargo. Got anything lyin’ around we can drop off while we’re there?”

Gorgon smiled.

“A man with a ready grasp of the essentials!” she said. “I quite approve. I think I can come up with something.”

 

***

 

They left Medusa’s Redemption twenty minutes later. Jayne’s bad mood wasn’t going away, in fact it was getting worse. River was still groggy and it sounded, from what Mal and Gorgon had said, like it was at least partly from the sedatives she’d gotten from the Alliance doc, so now he had to think about her wandering around Canmar Station crazy _and_ doped all to hell. Added to that, she hadn’t even looked at Jayne since she snapped out of her crazy time.

Jayne wanted to kick something.

“Remind me never to drink anything that woman gives me again,” Mal said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Listen, I’ve got a stop t’ make, down on C-Level. Won’t take more’n a few minutes. Maybe you two should go back t’ the ship…”

River didn’t say anything, just gripped Mal’s hand tighter and pressed right up against his side.

“...Or not,” he said, hardly missing a beat.

Jayne’s mood turned downright murderous.

The trip to C Level was mercifully uneventful. Mal led them to a tiny, no account door squeezed in between some sort of fast-food place and a laundry. Jayne had never been there before, so it didn’t sell weapons, but beyond that, he couldn’t tell much. It kind of looked like a cross between a spice seller’s and an infirmary, although he was really grateful that he’d never seen Simon using some of the tools he saw on the shelves.

It was the old lady sitting behind the desk with a mortar and pestle, grinding up little white pills into powder that finally clued Jayne in. He’d never been to a drug trader before, but he knew about them, enough to wonder what the hell Mal’s business was with this one. Word had it that the _lā shǐ_ these people sold could get you blind— or dead— real fast if you weren’t careful.

“Ah, Malcolm,” the old lady said, looking up with a slightly sad smile.

Jayne looked at River, wanting to at least share a raised eyebrow at grandma calling the captain by his first name, but River was staring at the woman with a fixed expression.

Dammit.

Mal nodded at the old lady.

“Marie,” he said.

Marie laid aside what she was doing and got to her feet, reaching beneath the counter and producing a small box and a piece of flexi.

 _What,_ Jayne thought, _Mal thinkin’ of dealin’ in drugs now_?

“This is what I managed to find out,” she said, gesturing to the flexi. “It’s not much, I’m afraid. I managed to identify what was in one of the vials— a generic antipsychotic in a fairly high dosage. I had some on hand, so I’ve put it together for you.” She touched the box. “The other two, though, are a mystery to me. Whatever was in them, it wasn’t a drug. It _looked_ like some sort of blend of natural organic compounds, but I don’t have a good enough grasp of organic chemistry to figure out which ones. I’ve got the specs here though. Maybe if you take them to someone who knows more about this kind of thing, they will have better luck.”

“Thanks,” Mal said, and Jayne saw his shoulders slump just a fraction. “That’s more’n I was expecting.

“Lost,” River murmured. “So lost.”

“I know, darlin’,” Mal said, taking the box and the flexi from Marie. “I’m doin’ my best, but you know my luck.” He gave her a wry, sad smile. “It was never gonna be that easy.”

Jayne finally realized what Mal had done. He had given this woman the vials that had held River’s old meds, trying to figure out what the doc had been giving her.

River didn’t seem to hear Mal. She let go of his hand and moved slowly towards the desk, looking at Marie with those creepy I’m-reading-you eyes.

“Went away,” she said. “Went away and never came back.”

Marie gave River a kindly smile and Jayne groaned inwardly.

 _That’s how they look right before she tells ‘em their darkest secrets,_ he thought.

“Who’s lost, dear?” the drug trader asked gently.

Mal had his head in his hand.

“Ma’am,” he said. “Whatever happens next, I’d take it as a kindness if you viewed it with a bit of charity.”

His request was well timed, because next thing any of them knew, River was slipping behind the counter and making for the back room of the shop. Jayne saw the old lady reaching under the counter and was over the countertop and had her hands behind her back before she could reach her gun.

“Never goes smooth,” Mal said under his breath. “How come it never goes smooth?”

“What do you want?” Marie said coolly.

She was clearly a professional, she wasn’t struggling in Jayne’s grip, not giving him a reason to hurt her.

Mal came around the counter, still muttering about things not going smooth.

“Quite honestly,” he said, “I got no idea. All I know is, I can’t take her anywhere these days without my merc and a lot of ammo. River!” He headed for the back room. “Why are we breaking into this nice woman’s shop? You tryin’ t’ get yourself shot by a little old lady with a _tā mā de_ sixshooter?”

Jayne followed Mal, taking Marie with him as gently as he could— he’d had a grandma once upon a time and he wouldn’t of taken kindly to anyone roughing her up. Mal’s comment about the ammo was rankling a bit. Jayne knew what his job was, he wasn’t stupid, but did he really rank on par with the _t_ _ā mā de_ ammunition?

“I’m sure that everything’s fine,” Mal was saying soothingly to Marie. “Unless you deal in crash or Z or somethin’ like that. Or have unpleasant hobbies. Please tell me I ain’t gonna find a guy hangin’ by his ankles back here?”

They entered a back room that was at least three times as big as the front, with white walls lined with orderly rows of vials, boxes, and jars and two long steel tables in the middle. One table held lab equipment, the other, a surprisingly sophisticated cortex array. River was sitting in front of the cortex feed, fingers working busily on the keyboard.

“Meant to come back,” River said as they entered the room, “But fairyland is dangerous. Drank the wine and ate the food and got trapped for seven years.”

She turned the cortex screen to face them.

She’d pulled up the public court records for a moon called Janus. Jayne had actually spent a bit of time there before joining _Serenity_ , working out of one of the two major cities, and had developed a violent dislike for the judicial system there. The weirdest damned things could land you in trouble— for instance pissing on a wall, driving a skimmer with the windows down, or (his personal favorite) pushing a cow over. The court record was the conviction and jail sentence of a woman named Adelaide Kent for the much more pedestrian crime of drug trafficking. Although, what now? A second conviction for… desecrating a public monument? Jayne would have loved to know what the hell _that_ meant.

Marie let out a gasp when she read the name.

“Oh, _Addy_ ,” she said.

“Someone you know?” Mal asked kindly, as though this was all perfectly normal.

Well, come to think of it, since it had been just the three of them, this _was_ pretty much a normal day.

“Yes,” Marie said, sounding like she was holding back tears. “Addy was… _is_ , a friend of mine. I haven’t seen or heard from her her for years. We did not part on the best of terms, I’m afraid. I thought… well, that either she was dead or still angry with me. But instead she’s been in prison…”

“Meant to come back,” River repeated, going to stand beside Mal.

Marie’s attention went back to the girl. River still wasn’t looking too hot. Her hair was a mess and she had that shifty eye thing going.

“Is this who the medicine is for?” she asked Mal.

Mal nodded tightly, looking down at River with a worried frown.

“Adrift among the stars,” River said, picking at the hem of her cardigan with one hand. “Must be pulled back down to the world of rain and dust.”

“How did she know…?” Marie twitched in Jayne’s hands, trying to wave at the cortex, and Jayne, realizing belatedly that he was still holding her, let go quickly.

“Can’t rightly say,” Mal said. “Told her your name before I came to see you, reckon she must of looked you up. She’s a bit of a genius.”

Mal didn’t have a tell as such, but Jayne knew he was lying because River had been too out of it to know her own hands from birds when Mal left the ship. River must’ve read this woman’s name out of Marie’s mind and then come in here to look up the info, but how she’d found it so quick he didn’t know.

“She must be,” Marie said. “I’ve been looking for Addy for two years. Are you sure that medicating her is the best thing, Malcolm? Sometimes eccentric behavior is the price that must be paid for genius like this.”

“Oh, believe me,” Mal said, “We figure out her meds, she’ll still be a genius. Only difference’ll be that hopefully she’ll be able to just tell folk what she knows instead of havin’ t’ break into back rooms and such.”

“I see,” Marie said, her gaze drifting back to the screen. “Well then, I’m sorry I couldn’t help more.”

“You did what you could,” Mal said wearily. “Can’t ask for more than that. Now, how much do I owe you?”

“Malcolm,” Marie said quietly, “Your young friend just saved me hundreds of credits on private investigators. It is I who owes _you_. Please, take the flexi and the meds, and if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to come to me.”

 

 

 

[1] Sweet mother of all

[2] Hell is knocking today

[3] Dumb ox’s uncle

[4] Fate touched

[5] Darling girl

[6] Thank you Buddha

[7] Thank you merciful Buddha

[8] Understood

[9] Thank fuck

[10] Violate my ancestors unto the seventh generation

[11] Goat semen

[12] Horse piss

[13] Waste of the galaxy

[14] Job 31:1

[15] Deuteronomy 22:23

[16] John 8:7


	6. Needs Must

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

Mal awoke with a start, jolted out of a dream of suffocating darkness by an unfamiliar sound. It took him a moment to accept that he was in his bunk on _Serenity_ rather than in the confines of a solitary cell. He listened for the sounds that would assure him that he was on his own ship and that she was well and happy. There was no hum of engines, seeing as they were docked, but the faint _swish_ of the life support system told him that it was working fine. Everything was as it should be.

Except that he wasn’t alone.

His nervous system kicked into overdrive as he took in the heat against his side and the weight on his chest, but then he heard that sound again, the same sound that had woken him, and this time he recognized it.

It was River moaning in her sleep.

He sighed and relaxed fractionally. It was shipboard dawn, with the lights just starting to come up in an approximation of a natural light light cycle, and he could see the top of River’s tangled head where it was lying in the crook of his shoulder. At some point, he had wrapped his arm around her, perhaps trying subconsciously to protect her from his own nightmare, and now he started to stroke her back. She let out a breath and pressed a little closer, but didn’t wake up.

He had been dreaming about Red Hope again, the third time in the past week. He hadn't dreamed about it this much since the year they were released, but didn't exactly take a genius to figure out why he was thinking about it now: Zoe was in another Alliance internment camp, only this time he wasn't there to watch her back. Or distract the guards’ attention from her by causing trouble, which was honestly what he’d been best at.

Which might explain why he'd spent so much time in solitary, come to think of it.

He’d never told Zoe— never told anyone— but his time in solitary had been far worse than any of the beatings he’d taken while in Alliance custody. Not that the physical abuse had been fun or anything, but at least the pain had let him know that he was still alive. Locked in the darkness, it was far, far too easy to believe that he had died and that this was hell. Which wouldn’t have been so bad, if he didn’t know that he’d sent thousands of men and women to their deaths in Serenity Valley and that hell was where they had most likely been headed.

He’d prayed that that was not hell, that hell really was fire and brimstone, because torture would be infinitely preferable to nothing. Then he’d prayed that there was no afterlife at all, because oblivion would be better than either fire or emptiness. Then, finally, he’d stopped praying.

Zoe believed that he’d lost his faith in the valley, but that wasn’t true. That had been when he’d thrown away the cross, but he hadn’t done that because he didn’t believe in God, he had done that because he was angry with Him. No, Mal had stopped believing in God in a solitary cell in Red Hope. He’d stared into the darkness and nothing had stared back and he’d known that he was on his own.

River let out a gasp and her body stiffened under his hand. Mal looked down, concerned.

“River?” he asked.

“ _They got out to the edge of the galaxy, to that place of nothin', and that's what they became,_ ”[1] she said, the words tumbling from her lips almost too fast for him to hear.

Mal vaguely recognized that as something that he’d said about Reavers before he’d found out that the explanation for their inhuman madness was far more sinister.

“Hey, hey,” he said. “Calm down. You dreamin’ about Miranda again?”

River shook her head and pressed her face into her shoulder, muffling her voice in his shirt.

“Hypothesis formed with incomplete data,” she said. “Didn’t know about the poison in the sky. Had only a mirror, held it up to your own soul. Knew what absolute nothingness would make _you_ become.”

Mal felt dread slither down his spine.

“You sharin’ my dreams, little one?” he asked.

“Empty darkness,” River said, her voice tight with fear.

“Dammit, Albatross,” he said. “You don’t need t’ see that. You’ve got nightmares aplenty without adding mine.”

River looked up at him, her face pale in the dim light.

“An ark is better than drowning, even if there are nightmares on it,” she said, confirming his suspicions that she was still using him as a lifeboat of sorts until the last of the tranks wore off.

She’d insisted on bunking with him again, but it had been different than before. She had refused to so much as let go of him until he’d brought her down here, which had been mighty awkward, considering his bunk was not set up for privacy. Thankfully, she’d been okay with him tucking her into his bed then leaving her alone there for a few minutes, but he was starting to think that, if this was going to be a common reoccurence, he was going to have to go down in the hold and haul out the the extra supplementary walls he’d bought when they’d redone Wash and Zoe’s bunk. Not that he’d been planning on letting anybody else get married, but he’d known, in the back of his head, that if Kaylee ever shacked up with somebody, he’d cave to her puppy-dog eyes in a second.

As it turned out, though, she and the Doc had moved into the passenger dorms, them being closer to the infirmary and the engine room, while River moved up to Kaylee’s old bunk. Kaylee had protested that River could stay in her own room, but River had given her a narrow look and told her that she “was content to enjoy the warmth of true love from afar.”

Kaylee had gone scarlet and had said no more about it.

“You feelin’ any better?” he asked, pulling his mind away from the thoughts of his missing crew members.

“Cut sinews are mending,” River mumbled.

Mal didn’t quite get the details, but he knew enough River-speak to understand that “mending” was the operative word here.

“Good,” Mal said. “You gave us a mighty big scare there, little one.”

“You pulled me out of the flood,” River said. “Found me when I was lost.”

“I doubt it,” Mal said. “I drank Gorgon’s creepy tea and had a crazy dope dream is all. Don’t know why you woke up same time as me, but I don’t see how it could be anything I did.”

“Two mad dreams equaled a new reality,” River said. “A boat on a flood of stars.”

“Wait,” Mal said. “You saw the boat and the ocean with all the stars in it too?”

She let out a watery laugh.

“Boat is yours,” she said. “Stars in chaos are mine.”

Mal was profoundly unnerved by this. He knew that River could share his dreams, but the idea that he had somehow wandered into hers was truly creepifying.

“Parameters are very clear, won’t occur without specific conditions,” River said soothingly.

“And those are?” Mal asked quickly.

“ _Gorgon’s creepy tea_ ,” River replied.

Mal breathed a sigh of relief. One reader on board was enough, to his way of thinking.

“Speakin’ of Gorgon,” he said, “You got anything you can tell me about this job she gave us?”

Gorgon was paying them more for this messenger run than Yitani had payed them to ship an entire cargo. He couldn’t of afforded to turn it down, even if Gorgon wasn’t the kind of woman a man needed to keep on the right side of, but he hated not knowing where the value in a job was.

“Cannot read Medusa,” River said with a yawn. “Snakes are in the way.”

Mal had no response to that.

 

***

 

Several hours later, Mal sat on the bridge staring at the information from Inara. They’d left Canmar three hours ago with full fuel tanks and a cargo hold full of compressed scrap steel. It was actually worth something on Imperia, he’d been surprised to discover, enough to cover the fuel to get there plus a little extra. That didn’t help him with his current problem, though.

He really didn’t want to make this call.

As long as he’d held onto this information without doing anything about it, he’d been able to pretend it would work, but now he had to actually make the wave, he was afraid. He didn’t know if he had the strength to face another dead end. But he had no choice. He had to take this chance, no matter how slim.

Mal took a deep breath and began punching the wave coordinates into the computer.

 

***

 

There was a little too much weight on the bar, especially since he didn’t have a spotter, but Jayne didn’t care. He needed the pain, needed it to keep him focused, keep him calm. Jayne knew he had a temper, always had, and most of the time he didn’t bother to control it, but this time he absolutely had to.

He couldn’t take out his anger on River.

It wasn’t just that Mal would space him— and he would, Jayne was sure of that— it was that he knew this wasn’t her fault. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that she probably didn’t even know that it would bother him, her needing Mal and not him. Hell, until yesterday, he would have told her that he didn’t _want_ to be needed.

What the hell was _wrong_ with him?

He resolved not to think about it. He just kept lifting the bar, feeling the muscles in his chest and arms burn and wondering if _maybe_ he should take the collars off. And that got him thinking about Book, because Book had spotted him a lot, but gorram it, he didn’t want to think about Book either.

He was so busy _not_ thinking about things that River managed to get pretty damn close before he realized she was there. Of course, River was crazy sneaky, but Jayne was a tracker and a sharpshooter and normally he could tell when someone was coming towards him.

“The sky still pours down stinking pitch,” River said. “What has put the wild waters in this roar?”[2]

Jayne put the bar back on its stand with a grunt and lay there for a minute, trying to figure out what to do. He didn’t understand a gorram thing she’d just said and the exercise, unfortunately, did not seem to be helping as much as he’d hoped.

“Don’t know what ye’re talkin’ about, Crazy,” he said finally, sitting up and grabbing the towel off the floor.

He refused to meet her eyes.

“There is a tempest over the island,” River said, her voice small and sad.

“Drugs not worn off yet?” Jayne asked, remembering that she’d been babbling about islands yesterday and Mal had said she’d be okay once she recovered from the tranks.

“You’re putting the fish into space,” River said.

Jayne looked up, startled, about to protest that he was doing no such thing, but was stopped by the look of frustration that crossed the girl’s face. It was like she _knew_ that what she’d said made no sense.

“Ideas aren’t real until they are given form,” she said. She looked at him sadly. “Ideas are too complicated. I try to give them form, but the form is complicated too. Too many layers, too many choices, I can’t…” She stopped and pressed her hand to her head.

“Yer sayin’ that when you try to talk, you have trouble finding the right words?” Jayne asked.

She nodded her head.

“Series,” she said, “Images, connotations, feelings, all full of meaning, right up to the brim. Can’t…” She stopped again. “Not relevant. What is important is the storm over the island,” she said slowly.

“Okay,” Jayne said, thinking to himself, _Gorramit, I am in no mood for this_. “What’s the island?”

To his surprise, River moved forward and laid one slender hand on his sweat-soaked T-shirt.

“Island,” she said.

“Wait,” Jayne said. “ _I’m_ the island?”

“Surrounded by storms,” she said.

Surrounded by… aw, hell. She’d been sensing how pissed off he was.

“You been readin’ me, Crazy?” he growled.

She frowned.

“Not a book,” she said. “No words. Only the storm.”

“Okay, so… you know how I’m feelin’, but not why?” he said.

She nodded, then, to his surprise, clambered up to kneel on the weight bench, which put her practically between his knees.

“Feelings are already real,” she said. “But they still need a form to be expressed.”

He gave her an irritated look and she tried again.

“‘If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it,’”[3] she said.

Jayne didn’t like where this was going. He looked away from her.

“Not gonna talk about this, Moonbrain,” he said. “None a’ your problem.”

She reached out and touched his arm and made a heartbreaking sad-face.

“Words,” she said.

“You don’t want these words, girl,” Jayne growled.

The face had gotten to him, made him want to fix whatever had her all sad, and that, in turn, had made him madder, because he couldn’t fix a damned thing.

“Don’t understand,” River said, shaking her head and tightening her fingers reflexively on his arm. “Wants to be the doctor, but what needs to be healed? Can’t tell, can’t see.”

Jayne’s hold on his temper snapped.

“You want to see, girl?” he yelled, pulling away from her and surging to his feet. “Fine! Just ‘cause I’m a big, dumb merc don’t mean I’m a whore!”

River practically tumbled off the weight bench and backed up against one of the cubes of scrap steel, shaking her head as though trying to get rid of a fly.

“Gun,” she muttered. “Muscle. Extra set of hands. Warm body, doesn’t think, just follows orders.”

Hearing her confirm exactly what he had been thinking was too much for Jayne. His hands balled into fists and, before he could do or say something he would regret, he turned and punched another of the cubes of scrap. He heard River cry out, but ignored her, focusing instead on the crushed metal in front of him. He drew back his fist to hit it again, but, to his utter astonishment, his knuckles didn’t connect. Instead, he felt something small and firm hit his wrist, deflecting the blow so that his hand passed harmlessly through empty air. He stared in surprise at the small figure of River, who had somehow gotten between him and his target.

She looked furious.

“If you don’t like my mercenary, please don’t damage him!”[4] she screamed.

“What th’ hell?” Jayne snarled, adrenaline pumping. “I coulda hurt you!”

She hadn’t actually gotten in front of his fist, but she done the next closest thing, knocking his arm aside like that.

“Already did!” River said, reaching out and grabbing his hand, forcing him to look at it. “Breaks in your skin, breaks in my mind!”

Jayne was surprised to see that the skin on his knuckles had split, not because he hadn’t realized the steel would do that, but because he hadn’t really felt anything until now.

River continued speaking, her agitation increasing with every word.

“ _He did not wear his scarlet coat,_

_For blood and wine are red,_

_And blood and wine were on his hands_

_When they found him with the dead,_

_The poor dead woman whom he loved,_

_And murdered in her bed._ ”[5]

Bile rose in Jayne’s throat.

“Gorrammit, girl,” he said. “Don’t talk like that! What th’ hell kind o’ no-good _húndàn_ d’you take me for? Even _Mal_ knows I’d never do anything t’ hurt you, not on purpose!”

“Then why are you twisting me in your head?” River shot back. “Girl through the looking glass! Don’t want to be her! _Don’t make me be her!_ ”

“Can’t make you be nothin’, girl!” Jayne snarled. “Anyways, don’t seem like you should care what I think. You don’t need me for that, do you? You don’t need me for much of anything except a quick fuck!”

River gasped and Jayne winced as he realized what he’d said. He had learned, in his time aboard _Serenity_ , that there were lines one did not cross with crew. He’d gotten vulgar about little Kaylee when the Doc first came on board and Mal had forced him to leave the room, a form of discipline that he and Zoe used a lot because, gorram it, on a ship the size of _Serenity_ , it worked. But what he’d just said was far worse than his off-color comment about little Kaylee wishing the Doc were a gynecologist. He held his breath, waiting to see what River would do. If she were Zoe, she would kill him. Slowly. If she were Kaylee, she would cry. A lot. He wasn’t sure which would be worse. Except, _tā mā de_ , those were definitely tears, and now he knew that he would have preferred the killing, because he absolutely could not stand making River cry.

River looked up at him, salt water spilling down her pale face, and when she spoke her voice was sad and forlorn.

“ _I talk of dreams,_

_Which are the children of an idle brain,_

_Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,_

_Which is as thin of substance as the air.”_ [6]

“Oh, _lā shǐ_ ,” Jayne said. “River, I don’t understand, but don’t cry, please don’t cry. Anything but that”

River stepped forward and reached up to touch his face, and Jayne flinched.

“Vain fancy,” she said. “Too much time to think, decided you weren’t worthy. Can’t see what is right in front of you.”

Jayne stiffened. He didn’t get most of what she was saying, but he remembered full well how this had all started back at Gorgon’s place, him sitting on that couch with nothing to do but wait and think.

“Made dreams of us,” River said, “Me and the captain. Turned us into children of an idle brain, made us think and feel things not our own.”

“Can’t make you feel or think nothin’, girl,” Jayne said.

“Not me,” River said. “The dream girl in your head, the one you’re fighting with. But I see her, hear her, feel her. Don’t make me be her!”

“You ain’t a dream, River!” Jayne yelled, stepping away from her angrily. “You’re real! I can’t make you not be real!”

“Vain fancy!” River cried, stamping her foot. “You dream a girl and then get angry with me because I look like her! I don’t want to be her! Make her go away! She doesn’t need you. I do!”

“You don’t need me, Crazy,” Jayne shouted back. “The captain, maybe, but not me. I left school when I was fourteen, ain’t read a proper book since. I kill people for a livin’ and use th’ coin for booze and trim. I couldn’t fly this ruttin’ ship if the gorram Reavers was chasin’ us and I couldn’t get us a job if we was starvin’. You have a bad day and you gotta cross an entire gorram space station and get Mal t’ put you right. The only thing you’ve ever needed me for was t’ sex you up, and even then, if Mal hadn’t a’ been there, I’d a’ done it all wrong!”

Jayne stopped, abruptly running out of words, and stood still, breathing hard. River looked up at him, her face unfathomable, tears still trickling down her face. Then, impossibly, for no reason he could see, she gave him one of those beautiful, heart-stopping smiles. She stepped forward and reached out, taking his big hands in her tiny ones.

“Captain needs these,” she said. “Not the gun, but the hands that hold it, hands that will always shoot fast and aim true.” She let go of his hands and reached up to brush her fingertips against the corners of his eyes. “And these,” she said. “See danger, know what to do, won’t hesitate. And I,” she laid her fingers lightly against his forehead, “I need this.” She moved her hand to rest on his chest. “And this. Simple, direct, nothing extra. Like bullets, quick and straight, don’t get lost on the way.” She met his eyes. “The captain and I look at the stars,” she said, “Like the philosophers on Earth-that-was. We wander the sky looking answers, for guidance, for meaning. But it’s not enough. We must still eat, breath, fight, love, or we become Miranda, a million souls saying… nothing.” There was a gut-wrenching sadness in her eyes that went beyond words. “Don’t need to be what you’re not,” she whispered. “Have him to do that. Need you to be what you _are_.”

Somehow, he finally understood what she was trying to say. Hell, he’d said some of it himself. She and Mal thought alike, all complicated and twisty, thoughts leading places he couldn’t follow. That’s why they understood each other so well. But for all their clever thinking, they still needed all the basic things that kept people going— food, air, sex, and, of course, ways _not_ to get killed by all the things that wanted to kill them. Mal had had Zoe to keep him from starving or dying— though in Jayne’s opinion, she had fallen down on the job when it came to getting the man laid, which was a pity, since Jayne was pretty sure it would have done wonders for his temper. And River had had the doc, for all the good he’d been— man could be a real _duì dànǎo lǘ shǐ báichī_ [7] sometimes and had also had been truly hopeless when it came to taking care of basic physical needs, a case in point being how long he’d waited to sex up a very willing little Kaylee. But Zoe and the doc weren’t here, so now it was Jayne’s job. And it was a job he might actually be good at, being, as River said, damned direct in his thinking. When he was hungry, he ate. When he was horny, he got off. And when someone was trying to kill him, he killed them first. Simple.

His mistake, he now realized, had been trying to be too much like Mal, thinking so hard that he missed the obvious.

River could read his mind.

She knew exactly what he was and was not and if she hadn’t needed him, she would have just married Mal. She wouldn’t have hauled their _pìgus_ all the way to Circe so they could all three get hitched— something that neither he, nor Mal had even known was legal. She’d already figured this out, already knew that neither of them could do this on their own, and had taken steps so that they wouldn’t have to. So he didn’t have to worry about what he _couldn’t_ do for her, because she had Mal to do those things. All he had to do was worry about the things he _could_ do, the things he was _good_ at: making sure she was as healthy, safe, and satisfied as possible.

The relief was immediate. The need to kiss her took a few moments to kick in, but when it did it overwhelmed the relief and, fortunately, made his next move obvious. He reached out and pulled her hard against him, pressing his mouth urgently against hers. She tasted of tears and heaven and although he’d never particularly connected either of those flavors with sex, the combination had him hard in record time. She made a small sound of surprise and he had enough presence of mind to remember that, while she might be a reader, she was still very new at this and probably hadn’t been ready for him to go from furious to turned on in three seconds flat.

“Sorry, baby girl,” he said, pulling his mouth reluctantly away from hers and taking half a step back. “Didn’t mean t’ scare you.”

River looked up at him, frowning in concentration.

“Fear and anger both produce the same physiological response as sexual arousal,” she said slowly, as though working something out.

Jayne had his by now familiar reaction to her use of really long words and groaned, resisting the urge to shove her against the block of compressed metal behind her. River bit her lip and her breath hitched.

“This is… needed?” she said. “What… _you_ need?”

Jayne closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Sure,” he said. “Don’t mean nothin’ though.”

He _did_ need this, but that didn’t mean she had to— or even should— give it to him.

“Means _everything_ ,” she countered, her voice taut and slightly shaky. “ _You_. _I_. Separate subjects, acting in concert towards an end, not chaos swirling in endless circles, things happening for no reason.” She moved forward, pressing herself up against him again, and he let out the breath he’d been holding with a hiss. “Need,” she said, “Fundamental, nothing extra. You. I. Need.”

He couldn’t quite follow her words, but he could damn well follow her body language and she was telling him that it was okay, that she wanted to take what he needed to give her, so he pushed her back against the crushed steel and pressed his body hard against hers, capturing her moan with his mouth. Her hands went around his waist, running slowly up his back, feeling how the bones and muscles went together. She’d never really gone exploring like this before and Jayne found that it opened up a whole new world of turned on. He groaned and pulled back.

“Girl, you sure?” he said roughly. “You’ve never done this without Mal there. Sure you’ll be alright?”

She nodded, reaching up and grabbing his hand. She twined her fingers with his and squeezed.

“You be my anchor this time,” she said.

He had a moment of doubt— wasn’t being her anchor Mal’s job?— before remembering that he had just decided to trust her judgment, so instead he asked, “How?”

Her hands started moving again, creeping under his shirt and running across the bare skin of his back.

“Feel,” she said, her voice going slightly husky, “See. Be. I get lost, but if I can find you, I can find me too. We’re in the same place.”

“Damn, girl, you don’t need t’ tell me t’ feel,’ he growled as her palms hit a sensitive spot just below his ribs. “Or to look,” he added as her eyes went dark and liquid.

He realized that she was actually ahead of him in the ‘feel’ department and took immediate steps to fix the situation, which, since she was wearing a dress, involved getting it off her in record time. He faltered there, though, because revealing all that bare skin also revealed bruises on her wrists, her left arm, and her right side.

“ _Tā mā de_ ,” he swore, remember the episode with the feds and swallowing hard. “Did I do any a’ that?”

She frowned, distracted, and looked down at herself with intense concentration.

“Wrists,” she said, studying the dusky purple marks critically. “Ribs and bicep belong to Medusa’s minions.”

Mal had said she’d gotten into it with Gorgon’s security, but Jayne had forgotten. That didn’t bother him so much, but the fact that he’d left marks on her sure as hell did.

 _“Tā mā de wǒ de bēicǎn shēnghuó_ ,”[8] he swore.

River tilted her head, considering him solemnly, then slid her hand back under his shirt and, very deliberately, dug her fingernails into the skin over his shoulder blades and dragged them down his back. He let out a startled hiss. There was something damn hot about the feeling of her nails dragging across his skin, which he knew was kind of weird, but right now he didn’t care.

“Justice of the desert,” she said, “Blood for blood.”

“I hurt you, you hurt me back?” he said, his voice hoarse.

She gave him that smile that made her look like innocence and sin and power all rolled into one and he groaned, unable to stop himself leaning down to kiss her again. She made a satisfied sound deep in her throat and pulled him hard against her.

His shirt came off between slightly frantic kisses, and she had his belt undone almost before he realized what was happening. They didn’t actually manage to get his pants off though, because the second her underwear joined the pile on the floor and his hands slid over her small, impossibly soft breasts, she indicated quite clearly and forcefully that she was done waiting.

Her hand on him would have been the best thing he’d ever felt in his life if he didn’t have the memory of being inside her to compare it to. And he’d always loved a woman who knew what she wanted, so her grabbing his hand and putting it where she needed it was almost more than he could take. She was soaking wet, but he had just enough presence of mind left to slide a finger inside her to see if she was completely ready. He drew in a sharp breath, thankful he’d checked, because, despite her arousal, she was, once again, outrageously tight. There was no way he could take her like this without hurting her and he didn’t want to do that, despite their new deal. He could think of some interesting ways to test this whole ‘blood for blood’ idea, but not that. That was one kind of pain he never, ever wanted to cause her again.

Luckily, he knew by now what he had to do and how to do it and soon he her closing her eyes and coming apart in his arms. When she opened them again, he saw, just for a moment, a normal, happy girl who had just had a good orgasm— no ageless knowing, no sad confusion, no looking somewhere no one else could see, just pleasure and anticipation.

Damn, if that wasn’t a beautiful sight.

He took her up against the blocks of steel, one arm around her hips, holding her up, the other behind her back, protecting her skin from the metal. She was hot and wet and so, so tight and their position was forcing him deeper inside her than he’d been either of the times before. She gave a strangled cry and somehow he found the breath to speak.

“Okay?” he rasped through gritted teeth, holding himself still with immense difficulty.

She gasped out something he didn’t quite catch about fission and chain reactions and he realized that the simple act of him pushing into her had made her come again. She leaned down and capturing his mouth in a kiss that was almost bruising. He began to move and _damn_ , the girl was agile, because somehow she’d managed to lock her legs around his hips just _so_ and was moving with him in the _exact_ way that would feel like gorram _paradise_ , but wouldn’t make this all be over before it properly began. She’d also figured out that, while her moaning was in itself enough to drive him half crazy, her moaning with her lips against his ear would remove whatever sanity he’d ever had.

He wasn’t sure whether it was minutes or hours— time seemed to have gone funny for some reason— but suddenly he felt her body change and heard her cry out. This wasn’t the sharp, hard orgasm he was used to giving her, but a slow, powerful one that simply didn’t stop. He made a low, feral sound and thrust into her _hard_ , which either prolonged her climax or started another one. He couldn’t be sure which, because he was too busy seeing stars.

It took him a minute to get his bearings. She was clinging to him like a monkey, arms around his neck, legs still locked around his waist, shaking with the aftershocks. Jayne pulled back a little to check on her and she looked up at him with what looked like a worried expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, hoping like hell he hadn’t hurt her or messed with her head or something.

“Contradiction in the solution,” she said. “Cannot prove innocence by acting guilty.”

Jayne blinked, trying to make his brain work, but he was still pretty dazed.

“Sorry, baby girl,” he said. “Didn’t catch that.”

“Engaging in sexual intercourse with you is not the way to prove that I require you for more than sexual intercourse,” River explained anxiously.

When Jayne finally worked out what she was saying, he started laughing.

“River-girl,” he said, “Ain’t no way lettin’ me sex you is gonna be a bad thing.”

He was sure enough of his motor functions by this point to step back and set her on her feet. He kept one arm around her though, partly to make sure she didn’t fall and partly because he didn’t particularly want to let her go. He lifted the other and brushed her tangled hair out of her face, looking down at her wide eyes.

“You really worried about this, _bǎo bei_?” [9] he asked, the endearment slipping unconsciously from his lips. “Don’t you know me better’n that?”

“Can’t know what has never before existed,” she said. “Nothing stands still, everything always in motion, river of life, always changing.”

“Dunno what that means, but I do know that I ain’t _ever_ gonna be complainin,’ about gettin’ t’ touch you,” he said. “Listen, how about you try explainin’ again after we clean up? If Mal sees I took you like this, he’ll space me first and ask questions afterwards.”

 

***

 

Jayne had never helped a woman shower before and River was not making it easy for him. For reasons past understanding, she was making him wash her hair and he was finding it surprisingly challenging. There was so much of it, it was all tangled, and it went everywhere. Added to that, all that wet, glistening skin was making it incredibly hard for him to concentrate.

And she wouldn’t stop giggling.

“Don’t see what’s so funny, Crazy,” he growled, trying manfully— well, actually, in this case, _un_ -manfully— to ignore the slippery wet skin sliding against his chest.

“Jayne is a girl’s name,” she replied, scrunching her eyes shut as suds slid down her face.

Jayne quickly tilted her head back and put his hand over her face, unreasonably alarmed by the idea of her getting soap in her eyes.

“Jayne ain’t a girl,” he growled.

She laughed delightedly.

He wasn’t really surprised when she disappeared after their shower and then returned with her hairbrush and a pouting expression. It wasn’t like it was some kind of big secret that he could brush hair— although why everyone made such a big deal out of it, he had no clue. Honestly, brush one whore’s hair and you’d never hear the end of it.

He made a show of scowling as he took the hairbrush and sat her down in the common room, but they both knew full well that he wasn’t really annoyed. After all, what guy _wouldn’t_ want a pretty girl sitting between his legs giving him the best excuse in the world to touch her hair?

And, okay, when he put it that way, maybe this was more of a Jayne thing than a guy thing. Jayne had always liked touching things and there were few things as worthwhile to touch as a pretty girl’s hair.

He started with the ends, short, firm strokes that got out the tangles without yanking too bad. She leaned against his thigh and sighed dreamily.

“You like this, Crazy Girl?” he asked.

“Imposing order on chaos,” she said. “A hundred thousand tangled thoughts become parallel, strands running in the same direction.”

Jayne let out a laugh.

“Your brain is as tangled as your hair?” he said teasingly. “No wonder you’re crazy.”

She giggled.

 

***

 

Mal heard River laughing as he walked down the corridor from the bridge. Although it was still morning, he felt exhausted, as though it had been days, not hours since he woke up from a nightmare of empty darkness with River in his arms. He entered the mess and looked towards the common area, then did a double take as he realized what he was seeing. River was sitting between Jayne’s legs, head tilted back, eyes closed, as he ran a brush through her damp hair. She was, apparently, trying to explain something to him:

“ _I dreamed a wild skein of time unfurled_

_Across a vast expanse of dark and stars,_

_My life, run through the history of the world,_

_Here knotted in a tangle that was ours._ ”

“Yeah, well,” he said, “Don’t know about your life, but I know your hair is knotted up tighter’n Mal’s jawbone.”

River gave a delighted laugh at the analogy and Mal’s “Hey now!” was more obligatory than heartfelt. He was so relieved to hear her laugh, he didn’t really care why she was doing it.

“Hey, Cap’n,” Jayne said, looking up briefly from his task.

“Do I even want t’ know how she coerced you into doing that?” Mal asked, going over to the cabinets and digging around for the coffee packs.

“Clears her head, apparently,” Jayne said, shrugging.

“Makes the lines parallel,” River agreed, sighing happily.

“So, what’d Inara’s lawyers say?” Jayne asked, trying hard to be casual.

Mal’s hands paused briefly in the act of fixing coffee, then resumed.

“They say,” he said, “That they can look into it, but it’ll take time and they can’t promise anything.”

“What th’ hell does that mean?” Jayne said. “How hard can it be to find three names?”

“One name,” Mal corrected. “I can only ask about Simon ‘cause I’m related to him— apparently there’s some law about immediate family or some such.”

“You’re _what_?” Jayne said. “How’re you kin t’ the doc?”

“No need t’ act so surprised,” Mal said, smirking a little. “You are too.”

“Have you lost your gorram mind?” Jayne said. “I am _not_ related to the doc. ”

“Jayne,” Mal said, “You’re married to th’ man’s sister.”

Jayne dropped the hairbrush and stared at Mal in horror.

“Oh, _tiān shàngxià yǔ huǒ jī nèizàng_ ,”[10] he swore.

River dissolved into helpless laughter.

“Glad to see you cheerful again, Albatross,” Mal said.

River cocked her head, smiling, and Mal noticed that she seemed a lot more _there_ than she’d been since the unfortunate sedative incident.

“Simple pleasures for simple minds,” she said.

She turned around, got up on her knees, and kissed Jayne full on the mouth. He let out a surprised yelp, but it didn’t take more than a couple seconds for him to return the kiss, burying his hands in her half-brushed hair and tilting his head to slide his tongue into her mouth.

Mal stood very still beside the counter imitating a goldfish.

“Ain’t nice t’ tease th’ man, Crazy,” Jayne said when they broke the kiss. “Mal’s ornery enough already.”

Mal made an incoherent sound of protest, but River looked up at Jayne solemnly.

“Not teasing,” she said firmly. “Teaching.”

“Teaching?” Jayne asked.

“We have to watch out for the captain,” she said. “Mustn’t fall down on the job like Zoe and Simon.”

Jayne’s eyes widened— presumably she was picking up on something in his head— and he stared at River before turning to look at Mal with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“No,” he said, smirking, “Can’t be doin’ that.” He turned back to River and cocked an eyebrow. “What changed your mind?” he asked. “Thought you said it was a bad idea.”

“Knew it would happen, but it takes time,” River said. “Theoretically beneficial, but there are many variables: could go terribly wrong, have to balance everything, make a stable universe.”

“You tellin’ me you’ve been plannin’ this?” Jayne asked.

“Told you,” River said. “Can’t go play in the sunshine alone. Not polite. And not the best use of resources either. Don’t you want a less ornery captain?”

Jayne looked at Mal again and, despite an apparent struggle, burst out laughing.

“This is gonna be funnier’n hell,” he said between gulps of mirth.

“Well, I’m glad to see you two all happy and jokifying, but we’ve got us a brother-in-law to find,” Mal said testily.

He knew he was missing something and, judging by how funny Jayne found whatever it was, it was something he wasn’t going to like.

Jayne sobered up and looked like he was going to protest the whole brother-in-law thing, but, to Mal’s surprise, he caught the look on River’s face and stopped. River had gone quiet and was looking at Mal with sad, sad eyes.

“Simon’s lost in the darkness, isn’t he?” she whispered. “Looking into the black.” Her voice rose and she sounded desperate. “What will he see?” she asked.

Ah, hell. Mal should have known she would pick up on that. Ever since he’d cut the wave, he’d been thinking about how Simon was going to survive in an Alliance internment camp. Until now, he’d been thinking mostly about Zoe and Kaylee. Simon was always so cool and collected, it was often hard to remember that he actually had a heart, and a damned soft one at that. Boy hated to see people hurt. When it came down to it, Simon might come out of this worse than either of the others. Man was a doctor, devoted to helping and healing, and he was in a place that was committed to the very opposite.

“Hey,” Mal said. “We’re gonna get him back, darlin’. We’re gonna get them all back.”

“But what will they be?” River asked.

Mal didn’t have an answer for her.

 _Ain’t right,_ he thought. _Alliance already took everything away from her once. Now they’re doing it again._

He shook himself. Once they’d actually rescued they’re crew, it would be time enough to worry about what sort of shape they were in.

“Here’s the plan,” he said, “These lawyers are based on Persephone— no surprise, really, it being the Gateway to the Rim and all. So after we make this drop on Imperia, we’re going to head in the general direction a' Lux. It’s my thinking that they must know more about this than they can tell us, and if we can get River in the same room with them, we might learn something that’ll be of use.”

River’s face was unreadable.

“Needs must when the devil drives,” she said, her voice flat.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Mal said.

 

***

 

 _Needs must when the devil drives_. Colloquialism from Earth-that-Was, sixteenth century. One of River’s favorite centuries. All of the prejudice, cruelty, and avarice of the human race on display for the world to see, not hidden under layers and layers of platitudes. River hated dissimulation. It made her head hurt.

She stared at the flexi, tracing patterns in the air with her free hand. She recognized these patterns, knew how they went together to be part of the whole, but she couldn’t quite remember what they were called. She could only express how they looked to her, dance steps from her youth translated into cells and chemicals: the _pas de chat_ , the _grande jete_ , the _plie_.

But there was the box, the box with the vials, and that was solid.

 _Needs must_.

She needed to be whole, to be sane, or she would not be able to help Simon. Somehow she knew that rescuing Simon would require every skill the academy had forced into her broken mind, and that even that wouldn’t be enough. She would have to be more than the perfect assassin. She would have to be a miracle.

She couldn’t be a miracle when she couldn’t do simple biology without using ballet terms.

River put down the flexi and picked up the box.

_Is it time to go to sleep again?_

_No,_ mèi mei. _It’s time to wake up._

She wasn’t sure if that was the truth. It had been a long time since she’d believed in fairies.

 

***

 

Mal was in the cargo bay trying to dig out the supplementary walls for the crew bunks when he realized that something wasn’t right. He stopped what he was doing and listened, sorting through the normal creaks, groans, hums, and swishes that made up _Serenity’s_ sounds when she was in the black. After a moment, he heard it, sounds coming from the direction of the infirmary, a room that had been deserted since Simon’s arrest.

 _What in the ‘verse?_ he thought moving in the direction of the passenger lounge.

Sure enough, the door to the infirmary was open and the lights were on.

“Jayne?” he said. “That you?”

He stepped into the room and froze. River was sitting on the table with a scalpel in her hand, running the sharp blade very slowly and deliberately down the pale skin of her arm.

Mal moved fast, stepping around the table and coming up behind her to grab her wrists, stopping the scalpel’s progress across her milky flesh.

“Gorramit River!” He snarled. “What the _hell_ d’you think you’re doin’?”

He half expected her to kill him for restraining her and more than half expected her to break down crying, but she did neither. She simply sat there staring at the blood.

Mal cautiously released her bleeding arm and took the scalpel from her unprotesting hand. Despite her docility, he didn’t trust her on her own, so he picked her up, holding her firmly against his chest as he went over to the wall and pressed the intercom for the ship.

“Jayne!” He said into the mic, his voice tight with anger and worry, “Get t’ the infirmary, _now_!”

He went back to the table, set River down, and grabbed a pack of sterile gauze from the tray by the table. Ripping it open, he pressed the white fabric to the River’s arm. The cut was smooth and precise, running from just below her elbow to the middle of her arm. It wasn’t that deep— compared to what he’d seen in the war, it was barely a scratch— but he found himself fighting down panic. Had she been trying to kill herself? If so, why? Had Inara been right? Had they messed up her head by having her be with Jayne? Or was Gorgon right? Had it been the Alliance doctor’s drugs that had sent her off the deep end?

“Mal?”

Jayne’s approach to the infirmary had been quiet enough that Mal, preoccupied with his grim thoughts, hadn’t realized he was there until he spoke.

“She cut herself,” Mal said, his voice clipped, but level. “It ain’t bad, but…”

He trailed off, unable to put his guilt and dread into words.

“ _Tā mā de_ ,” Jayne swore. “River! What th’ hell’d you go and do a thing like that for?”

River didn’t even look at Jayne. She just sat staring down at the cut on her arm, face expressionless.

“I wanted to feel,” she said in a flat, remote voice.

“ _Shāole zhè yīqiè_ ,”[11] Jayne snarled. “Is this about th’ cargo bay? I _told_ you you needed Mal!”

“No,” River said.

Mal started. For River to give a straight answer to anything was unnerving, but for her to be so succinct was downright surreal. Something was very, very wrong.

“Jayne,” Mal said, “Clean her up. And don’t let her near th’ knives.”

Jayne took Mal’s place and Mal began looking the infirmary over methodically, searching for some clue as to what River had been doing. The room was pretty much as Simon had left it, except for the one cupboard Mal had messed up looking for the vials he’d given Marie. The doc was a neat freak, so besides some dust, the room was immaculate.

Which made the box from Marie’s shop easily apparent.

“Little one,” Mal said, picking up the box “Did you take what was in this?”

“Yes,” River said.

Mal felt a wave of craven relief. He hadn’t screwed up, she was just having another bad drug reaction. The next minute, though, he remembered what had happened yesterday and his relief disappeared. He would rather deal with Niska and Patience together than River’s bad drug reactions.

“ _Lā shǐ_ ,” he said.

He went back to the table where Jayne was wiping the cut on River’s arm with antiseptic. The mercenary had that careful, blank look on his face that Mal was beginning to associate with River being in trouble: worried, but not about to show it.

“What went wrong?” Mal asked as gently as he could.

“Zathylpenacoline is a neural suppressor,” River said in that awful, flat voice. “It prevents some of the neurons in the brain from firing. Simon thought that it might suppress some of my telepathic abilities. I would still be reading, but the neurons wouldn’t pass the information on.”

“Does it work?” Mal asked.

Jayne had reached the limit of his medical know-how, so Mal took his place, examining River’s wound. It wasn’t that deep, he was pretty sure he didn’t have to stitch it— a blessing, since his sewing abilities had left Zoe with more than one comical scar that had caused Wash to laugh at inappropriate moments. Mal dug around in the drawers until he came up with some breathable sealant.

“It makes it easier for people to understand me,” River said as Mal applied the sealant, “And it prevents ‘episodes.’”

“So what’s the catch?” Mal said, reaching for another pack of gauze.

“It doesn’t just suppress my telepathic abilities,” River said. “It suppresses emotions and complex cognitive functions. I can’t think and I can’t feel,” She looked at the cut on her arm. “I just wanted to feel,” she said softly.

Mal would have thought that having a conversation with River where he got straight answers and no metaphors would be a relief, but he was actually starting to feel sick. Jayne, meanwhile, had gotten a dangerous look on his face.

“Did the doc know what this _lā shǐ_ was doin’ t’ you?” He growled.

The mercenary was pissed and Mal couldn’t exactly blame him. Simon had been giving River this drug, a drug that caused her to run a scalpel down her arm just to feel something, for who knew how long.

“I don’t think so,” River said. “All he knew was that it made me speak and act more normally.”

“So all that time we thought you was doin’ better, you were walkin’ around like a gorram mindless AI?” Mal said.

“I didn’t know,” River said. “I hadn’t been aware and off meds since Simon got me out of the Academy, I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel. Now… I can remember feeling, knowing, seeing, but I can’t _do_ it.”

Mal clenched his fists in impotent fury. He wanted to hit Simon, but he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that it wasn’t the doc’s fault. He’d been trying to make his sister better the only way he knew how.

“It still don’t make sense,” he said, forcing himself to focus. “I remember how you was when you was takin’ this stuff before. It wasn’t anythin’ like this. You was laughin’ with Kaylee, teasin’ Simon— even readin’ Jayne’s mind just t’ make him ornery. What changed?”

“The body builds up a tolerance to drugs over time,” River said without interest. “I imagine that my reaction now is more extreme than it was when I was taking it every day. Also, it is possible that the hormones and enzymes Simon was giving me along with the antipsychotic regulated some of the effects.”

Mal blinked.

“Hormones and whatsits?” he said.

“The other vials,” River said. “They were synthetic hormones and enzymes.”

“You got names?” Mal asked.

He knew he wasn’t letting River near this drug ever again, no matter what Simon said. But maybe, if he could get his hands on these synthetic whatevers, they still had a shot at getting her a bit more stable.

River frowned, concentrating.

“I… I knew before, but…” she made a frustrated sound. “I saw them as ballet moves, but now I can’t understand why. I know it made sense, but… I can’t _think_.”

Mal swore viciously and River jumped, startled. Jayne gave him a dirty look and stepped up behind the exam table so that he could rub her arms, but rather than relaxing her like it normally did, the contact seemed to make River puzzled and uncertain. Mal swallowed hard and, right then and there, he forgave Inara for thinking the worst. If this was how River reacted to being touched when she was on these meds— which was, after all, how she’d been last time Inara had seen her— no wonder the Companion had freaked out. Mal might not be trained to read body language, but even he could see that River doing anything of a sexual nature when she was like this would be just… well, _wrong_.

Jayne seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he stepped away in a hurry, looking ill.

“Okay,” Mal said, trying hard not to think about… well, anything that had happened over the past five days. “How long until this _lèsè_ [12] wears off?”

River shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she said.

 _Yīng'ér fú de qiú_ ,[13] but Mal was starting to hate these straight answers with a powerful will.

“Right,” he said. “Well, ‘til they do, we’re keepin’ an eye on you.”

 

***

 

There was a painful prickling at the edges of her brain, like blood returning to a limb that had been in the same position too long. River sat curled in the copilot’s seat on the bridge staring at the stars and feeling her mind reawaken from its drug-induced sleep. She heard Mal’s worry and the hard, acrid edge of his anger. The reasons for his feelings were too complicated for her to grasp, still, but she was surprised to find that being able to hear him was a relief rather than a burden. Beyond him, she could sense _Serenity_ , the flow and hum of almost-life that coursed through the ship, making her both transport and home. And beyond… the flood of stars, a billion billion fragments pouring through her head, making up a universe. She couldn’t make sense of them yet— she would never be able to make sense of all of them— but it was enough to know that they were there.

One of those fragments had drifted to the forefront of her consciousness and was bothering her. Her still-sluggish brain did not immediately grasp what it was or what it meant, but gradually she saw a series of _arabesques_ and _plies_ , punctuated by the occasional _grande jete_.

River started and hurriedly reached for the console, desperate to record what she saw before the drug wore off entirely and the moment was lost. Mal was on his feet the moment she started typing, his mind alert, but waiting until he knew more about what was going on before being either concerned or relieved. He moved deliberately over to her console and braced his hand on the back of the chair.

“What’s all this, little Albatross?” he asked quietly. “You suddenly solve th’ mystery of FTL travel? Or are you plannin’ on usin’ dinosaurs to take over the parliament?”

River shook her head, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she searched the cortex for what she needed. Mal waited patiently and finally River let out a breath and fell back into her chair, trembling slightly from the effort. On the screen, a green _Order Received_ was superimposed over the logo of a biotech company based on Imperia.

“I take it you figured out what Marie’s analysis meant then?” Mal said lightly, looking at the screen with a slight smirk.

“Ancient cultures believed that dawn and dusk were times of great power,” River said. “The most powerful magic was performed then, in the moments between nighttime and daytime, when nothing was actualized and everything was merely potential.”

Mal grinned down at her, looking amazingly boyish in his genuine delight.

“I didn’t understand a word of that,” he said. “It’s good to have you back, darlin’.”

River smiled happily and leaned forward to wrap her arms around his waist, leaning her head against him.

“It is good to be back, Captain,” she said with a happy sigh.

 

[1] From “Bushwhacked”

[2] Paraphrase of William Shakespeare’s _The Tempest_ Act I, Scene II, lines 2-3

[3] Zora Neale Hurston. While River is certainly aware of the racial context of Hurston’s words, she is probably adapting them here to reflect the issues of her time and place, where planetary origin is a similar source of prejudice.

[4] Paraphrase of a line from J. R. R. Tolkien's _The Hobbit_

[5] From Oscar Wilde’s _Ballad of Reading Gaol_

[6] From William Shakespeare’s _Romeo and Juliet_ , Act I, Scene 4, lines 97-100

[7] Donkey shit for brains

[8] Fuck my miserable life

[9] Treasure

[10] The sky is raining turkey guts

[11] Burn it all

[12] Garbage

[13] Baby Buddha’s balls


	7. Balance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

“I don’t like it,” Jayne said, glaring at Mal like the captain had done him a personal injury.

It was shipside morning and they were on the bridge trying to figure out how to deliver Gorgon’s ‘message’ to its intended recipient. True to form, the job was shaping up not to be as straightforward as it looked. Gorgon’s contact, Xerxes Li, was a Federal judge on Imperia and was, apparently, the most cold-hearted bastard ever to hand down a sentence. He got more death threats per day than Mal owned shirts, so the security at his mansion was tight, to say the least. They were not going to be able to simply walk up and knock on his door.

“Flowers of the evening don’t have thorns,” River said absently, still staring at the cortex screen. “Symbols of hate taint the sweet well of desire.”

Judging by the flood of color darkening Jayne’s tan, the mercenary’s mind had gone pretty much exactly where Mal’s had in response to the last statement, but Mal decided not to bring it up. River, of course, knew exactly what they were thinking and giggled, going a little pink; Mal scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Companions don’t go armed, Jayne,” Mal said, translating River’s… colorful description into layman’s terms. “She goes in carryin’, it’s gonna raise all manner a’ eyebrows. Not t’ mention, paranoid as this guy is, we’ll be leavin’ everything at the door anyway.”

Having River dress up as a Companion in order to approach the judge wasn’t his favorite idea ever. River had posed as a Companion before without too much trouble, but that had been when she was a mite saner and had Inara to help her. He was worried that, in her current state, she wouldn’t be able to pull it off. Truth be told, he hadn’t much liked it even when she was talking plain. He didn’t care for anyone thinking they could buy the privilege of River’s company any more than he cared for them actually being able to buy the privilege of Inara’s. However, they were, it turned out, somewhat limited in their options as far as respectable disguises were concerned. The sticking point, hilariously, was suitable clothing. Neither Mal nor Jayne could hope to fit into anything of Simon’s and the last decent suit Mal had owned hadn’t been the same after that _xìngjiāo làntānzi_ [1] of a duel with good old Ath Wing. That left River to play the role of upstanding citizen and a quick survey of options had revealed that the choices were a pilot cadet’s dress blues, an EMT’s uniform, or a Companion’s silk gown. The Companion outfit was the only one that made a lick of sense under the circumstances.

“It’s _gettin’_ t’ the door you gotta worry about,” Jayne said. “That no-fly zone around th’ mansion means yer gonna have t’ walk part of the way, and with River all fancified, could be you’ll attract th’ wrong sort of attention. I ain’t sayin’ she should strap my Mach 9 t’ her hip, I’m just sayin’ she should have th’ Diāo [2] or th’ Sweethearts tucked somewhere dis-creet like.”

Mal blinked. Diāos and Sweethearts were generally favored by ladies of the evening due to their diminutive size— they were small enough to be concealed, even in scanty clothing. He was having trouble picturing Jayne owning such girly guns. How the hell could he even get his finger behind the trigger guard?

“I can carry an extra piece,” Mal said. “Anything goes wrong, she’s fast enough t’ grab it from me. I don’t plan on lettin’ her outa my sight ‘slong as we’re dirtside.”

“Your plans suddenly work now?” Jayne said. “You shoulda told me, Cap’n. I coulda quit th’ thankless job of pullin’ your ass outa trouble and accepted that offer t’ be th’ Grand Poo-Bah of Sihnon.”

“Turnin’ down payin’ work for me?” Mal returned. “I’m touched, Jayne. So good t’ see a man maintainin’ his integrity in this sinful ‘verse.”

Jayne let out a low growl and River giggled.

“Flower of chivalry,” she said.

“Be that as it may,” Mal said, “We’ve got more pressing concerns, such as how we set this up without causin’ undue suspicion.”

“The priestess must make herself known to the pagans,” River said firmly. Then she frowned. “May be problematic,” she said worriedly. “The vessel may be polished, but the contents are not what they will expect.”

River called Inara ‘Priestess’ sometimes, so Mal figured that she was talking about the Companion persona, but the rest was going over his head.

“Can you explain that to me, darlin’’?” Mal said, hoping to at least grasp the highlights.

“Vessel is supposed to hold grace,” River said, “The contents bring blessings and offer absolution. Our chosen vessel can sparkle, but it does not hold the correct libation.”

“What’s th’ vessel?” Jayne asked.

Mal was briefly struck by the fact that Jayne was not growling, nor did he seem particularly angry or frustrated. The captain had a brief moment of disorientation. Since when did Jayne not mind playing twenty questions with their resident crazy person?

 _Since he started sleepin’ with her, you dumb bastard_ , said a little voice in his mind.

Mal swallowed hard and tried to block out the images _that_ thought conjured. River, meanwhile, was trying to answer Jayne.

“Sacred cup,” she said, “Holds liquid blessings. The Cup of Jamshid[3] contains the Elixir of Immortality. The Holy Grail catches the blood of Christ as it spills from his side… ”

“Keep it together, crazy girl,” Jayne said, interrupting what was shaping up to be a veritable catalogue of important mythical drinkware. “I get what a vessel _does_ , what I want t’ know is, who or what on this boat is the vessel?”

“Oh,” River said, looking vaguely abashed. She put one delicate finger on her own forehead. “Vessel,” she said firmly.

Something clicked in Mal’s head.

“Oh, _kě'ài de xiǎohái fú,_ ”[4] he said, blinking in shock as he tried to wrap his head around his sudden realization.

“What’s th’ matter, Captain?” Jayne asked.

“She’s sayin’ that she can dress all shiny like a Companion, but what she says and does won’t match how she looks,” Mal said quietly, staring at River in puzzled awe.

“Right,” Jayne said, clearly not understanding what was so noteworthy about this revelation. “And…?”

Mal shook himself.

“And that’s what I was thinkin’ the minute before she said it,” he said.

“Yeah,” Jayne said, frowning at the captain like he was the craziest person on this boat at the moment. “Think we’ve already figured out she’s a Reader, Mal, it ain’t exactly news.”

“Jayne, she ain’t just readin’ our thoughts,” Mal said.

There was a moment of silence.

“Huh?” Jayne said finally.

“I asked how we were gonna set this meet up,” Mal said, thinking furiously, “And she answered. She said that the Priestess— meanin’ th’ Companion— needed t’ make herself known— call Li. Then she said th’ bit about not actin’ like they’ll expect. Now, I didn’t think th’ part about her callin’ Li, that was her. But th’ part about her not talking or actin’ like a Companion, that was me.”

“What’s so special about that?” Jayne asked. “Girl does that t’ me all th’ time, comes out with somethin’ she heard in my brain in th’ middle of a conversation.”

“That she does,” Mal said. “But you notice anything particular about _what_ she comes out with? I was thinkin’ a whole passel a’ nonsense, but she picks up on th’ one thing that has bearin’ on what she was considerin’: how t’ set up th’ meet with Li.”

“Main databank is corrupted,” River said softly. “External backup can provide necessary programming and data.”

“She’s usin’ us as a gorram backup system,” Mal said.

“ _Shèng tā mā dì dìyù_ ,”[5] Jayne swore.

River was frowning, head on one side, eyes fixed on the middle distance.

“ _Backup system_ ,” she agreed. She looked at Mal. “Need a template for the Priestess,” she said.

“What th’ _dìyù_?” [6] Jayne asked.

Mal choked ungracefully.

“Need a what now?” He said. “Are you sayin’ you want t’ use our memories of Inara as, well, some sorta base code?”

River’s expression was thoughtful.

“Probability of success is significant enough to warrant experimentation,” she said.

“ _Shānyáng héshā shǔ de àiqíng_ ,”[7] Mal said. “What d’you want me t’ do?”

River nibbled her lip anxiously.

“Need to remember,” she said.

“Remember Inara,” Mal said. “Okay.”

Mal took a deep breath and called up the first memory he could think of. They had visited her at the training house not long after she’d left for the second time. Mal hadn’t wanted to go, but Kaylee and River had both been so excited that they were passing near Highgate, he had been forced to give in. He remembered her coming out to welcome them, her calm, professional smile giving way to genuine delight when Kaylee threw herself at her _jei-jei_. [8] Mal had hung back, reluctant to approach her after their excruciatingly awkward leavetaking two months before, and when she had met his eyes, the warmth had faded and she had pulled her cool composure around her like a shield.

As he concentrated on the memory, River’s demeanor shifted subtly. Her posture straightened and the normal quizzical tilt of her head disappeared, replaced by a poised, balanced attitude. Her face fell into a warm, but noncommittal smile and her hands relaxed against the front of her dress. Only her eyes remained unchanged, looking both _at_ Mal and _through_ him.

“Captain,” River said, her Core accent richer and more resonant than usual, “How delightful to see you again. How goes the petty theft?”

Mal’s mouth fell open and Jayne choked on a bark of laughter.

“And Jayne,” River turned to the mercenary with a half-smile, “It’s a dubious pleasure, as always. What kind of trouble has Mal gotten you into lately?”

“Now that’s just gorram unsettlin’,” Jayne said.

“Don’t that just figure,” Mal said. “That woman just can’t resist insultin’ me, even when she’s actually my psychic genius wife.”

“What’s wrong, Mal?” River asked archly. “Do you suddenly care what a _lowly whore_ thinks of you?”

“Gorramit, River,” Mal said, frustrated.

River raised one eyebrow in a perfect imitation of Inara’s ‘Malcolm-Reynolds-is-as-dust-beneath-my-shoe’ expression.

“As entertainin’ as this is,” Jayne broke in before things could devolve further, “I don’t think a replay of th’ captain and Inara havin’ a set-to is gonna cut it with His Judgeness.”

River blinked and tilted her head again, indicating that she was no longer channelling the Inara in Mal’s head.

“Diamond has many faces,” she said with a slightly sad smile. “Not all of them are fit for company.”

“Different memory,” Mal said, pulling himself together. “Right.”

The memory that came to him next was of Inara on Haven, right before she left the ship the second time. She was sitting at one of the rough-hewn tables outside of the Shepherd’s makeshift church helping some of the women mend clothes, using the fancy Core skills she’d learned for the purpose of embroidering pillows or some such to sew patches onto a little girl’s overalls. Mal couldn’t hear what she was saying, but could see her speaking with kindness and animation, as though these ragged, uneducated women were her finest clients on Sihnon. Inara had that ability, to be utterly gracious no matter the situation.

“Mal,” River said in her Inara-voice, but softer this time, “You look exhausted.”

Mal started and stared at River, wide-eyed. She had the same poise she’d adopted on their earlier attempt, but the set of her shoulders and the nuances of her expression were subtly different. Where before she had been all cool pride and untouchable elegance, she was now projecting an attitude of attentive concern,

“Uh…” was Mal’s intelligent response to this new turn of events.

River smiled gently.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing to a chair.

Still trying to come to terms with what was happening, Mal obeyed without really thinking about it, only to yelp in surprise as River’s small fingers began massaging his temples.

“Relax,” she said, working her way back from his temples towards the base of his neck.

Jayne had one hand over his eyes and was doing his damndest not to laugh. Mal, not knowing what to do, was reduced to making inarticulate noises that gave way to a groan as River’s fingers found a spot at the bottom of his skull that seemed to make his brain short-circuit.

“You need to sleep more,” River murmured, “But this should help with the headaches. Try not to clench your jaw so tight if you can manage it.”

Jayne lost his battle with laughter, but Mal found that he couldn’t actually say anything. He was busy revelling in the sudden absence of a headache he hadn’t even realized that he’d had.

 

***

 

Epifanía[9] was one of those jumbled up cities that had grown up around several smaller towns when the original settlers suddenly had something worth selling and built a spaceport to sell it. Mal didn’t much like working in those cities because, whether you were being a law-abiding citizen or a petty criminal, there was no way to get from point A to point B without going through dangerous territory. Respectable areas were no place to be a crook, while slums were no place to be respectable, but the two were so hopelessly mixed up in Epifanía that you couldn’t avoid either.

At the moment, they were in a fairly decent open market about five blocks away from Li’s mansion, but Mal knew from the map that this tree-lined square was less than two streets away from a very rough neighborhood. Having a dolled-up River strolling unarmed through the crowded market a measly two minutes’ walk away from Cutthroat Central was giving Mal a cramp in his jaw. It hurt like a mother, but he supposed it probably helped make his role as River’s bodyguard more believable.

He’d left his usual brown coat at home in deference to the Guild’s Core allegiances and was wearing Jayne’s black leather jacket instead. Coupled with some of Jayne’s hardware— a pair of Zi Sus on his hips and two Urqharts holstered under the jacket— he could pass reasonably well for hired muscle, though Jayne had told him sternly not to remove the jacket.

“No self-respectin’ merc is gonna wear suspenders, Cap’n,” said the only merc, self-respecting or otherwise, currently in residence. “Too old-world. Someone might think they was honorable.”

River, meanwhile, looked every inch a companion, dressed in a complicated blue silk gown, her face made up, and her hair twined up on her head with a pair of shiny silver chopstick thrust carelessly through the silky mass.

The chopsticks had been Jayne’s contribution and, when he had first handed them to the girl and told her to put them in her hair, Mal had thought for a minute that Jayne had finally succumbed to space dementia. River, however, had smiled.

“Acceptable compromise,” she said, and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“Um… someone care to explain?” Mal asked, trying to keep his voice calm and polite.

“We had some stainless steel ones,” Jayne said, shrugging. “I think the Shepherd brought them back from that abbey he stayed at when we was on… anyways, I sharpened them with Kaylee’s grinder. If she can’t carry a gun, at least she can take something pointy. Might actually be better, since I doubt they’ll make her take her hair down at the mansion.”

“Jayne,” Mal said, his voice slightly strangled, “Did you just make weapons out of beauty accessories?”

Jayne frowned at Mal. It was the ‘humoring-crazy-captain’ frown again and Mal didn’t much care for it, so he glowered back.

“You both said she couldn’t carry,” Jayne said, as if that explained everything.

River smiled happily, gloating over her deadly present.

“Jayne is very smart,” she said. “Adapts to the situation. And he is sweet to worry.”

“Jayne ain’t sweet,” Jayne growled, but even Mal could see he was pleased.

The incident had left Mal confused and disturbed. Jayne being smart and sensitive was almost as bad as Zoe being girly or Kaylee being mean. It upset the natural order.

Now, however, Jayne’s creative thinking was the least of Mal’s worries. He was having trouble concentrating with River dressed the way she was. She looked older, for a start, and the Companion poise she was channeling out of his head was messing _with_ said head. Also— and Mal would rather die than admit this— the whole sophisticated look had always been something of a weakness for him. It was part of the reason Inara had made his life such a living hell: there she was, all kind and caring and embodying all of his most secret fantasies, and he could never let himself do anything about it. Not to mention, he’d never really been comfortable with his inexplicable preference for high-society women in the first place. After all, he hated the Alliance and everything it represented.

Didn’t he?

“It is perfectly natural to find specific visual cues stimulating, Mal,” River said, looking back over her shoulder with a warm smile. “It isn’t a political statement. Do you think that Simon’s delight in Kaylee being covered in engine grease reflects his ideological commitment to blue-collar workers' rights?”

“Gorramit, girl,” Mal snapped. “Don’t do that.”

“I am a Companion today,” River said with a silvery little laugh. “I seek to counsel.”

“Most Companions ain’t Readers, River,” Mal bit out.

“Cassandra must become Agamemnon’s mistress all in a day, but she is still Cassandra,” River said with an elegant shrug. “A new title does not stop what she sees. Surely it is enough that she can play the part in some fashion, even if it is in her own way?”

Mal sighed.

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean t’ get tetchy. Some things a man don’t like talkin’ about is all.”

River walked quietly beside him, studying him thoughtfully.

“You would be a very difficult client,” she said. “And not just because you find the commercial aspect of the business repugnant. You are very stubborn, Malcolm Reynolds.”

Mal let out a surprised bark of laughter.

“It’s what makes me special,” he said with a grin that was almost a smirk.

River gave him a brilliant smile and reached out with one delicate hand and took his arm. Mal found himself smiling down at her, able for once to enjoy the old-world elegance of the gesture without choking on the bitter aftertaste of defeat. River, after all, was the ultimate symbol of Alliance corruption, an educated, privileged, pampered Core princess sacrificed to the whims of the very regime that had created her.

“Oppression carries within it the seeds of its own destruction,”[10] River said softly. “Boadicea would have been happy guarding her cattle and teaching her daughters if there had been no Rome to fight.”

Mal wondered if deliberately reading his memory for images of Inara was making it easier for her to talk so he could understand her, or whether he was simply getting better at understanding River-speak, because he took her meaning almost right away.

“You ain’t wrong at that, Little Albatross,” he said as they left the square and started up a gentle hill towards the mansion. “Weren’t for the Alliance getting all greedy, there’d a’ been no _Serenity_ and no Miranda Wave, ‘cause I’d be a farmer on Shadow and you’d be a _not_ -crazy genius at some university on Osiris. They coulda kept their dirty little secret tucked away at the back-end of the ‘Verse ‘til Judgment Day.”

“Even if there’s no such thing as fate, things happen for a reason,” River said in seeming agreement. “Cause and effect.” She looked up at Mal, her big brown eyes wistful. “Can’t be glad that Wash and Shepherd Book died,” she said, “Or that,” her voice changed, becoming, somehow, a female version of Simon’s persnickety Core speech, “ _The alliance used my brain as a rutting playground_.” She smiled sadly, dropping Simon’s precise inflections as abruptly as she had picked them up. “But I can’t imagine being anywhere except _Serenity_.”

“Me neither, darlin’,” Mal said. “Me neither.”

 

***

 

The gatekeeper for Li’s mansion was, to say the least, a singular character. He was less than four feet tall, with dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a vicious scar under one eye. He wore an impeccably tailored charcoal suit— with, Mal was interested to see, room under the left arm for a holster— and when he spoke, his accent was that of the Imperian upper class.

“And what can I do for you today?” he asked, standing in the open gate with every appearance of confidence, despite his diminutive stature.

“Leigh Hépíng[11] to see Mr. Li,” Mal said curtly.

They had discovered the trick to coming up with false names for River a while back, long before the mess on D’Aria. Names plucked randomly out of thin air confused the hell out of her— there had been one memorable meet where she had spent the entire transaction trying to find some etymological or historical connection between the name “Agnes” and anyone or anything she knew, making her useless for all practical purposes— so it was best to give her an alias that had some relation, no matter how distant, to _Serenity_ or her crew. “Leigh” was a Core variation of Kaylee’s middle name, while “Hépíng” was Mandarin for peace, which was a close enough synonym to serenity to keep her happy. Inara had come up with the name the first time she had taken River out in the guise of a Guild Novice.

The gatekeeper raked his sharp gaze over the two of them, clearly assessing whether they belonged here, and Mal thought very hard about Inara when she was welcoming the Councilor from Ezra onto _Serenity_.

River gave the gatekeeper a gracious smile.

“I believe we are expected,” she said softly.

Even when she was channelling Inara, River couldn’t quite pull of the Companion’s welcoming warmth. There was something ethereal and otherworldly that clung to the girl no matter how she dressed or acted. Mal worried that the difference would tip the sharp-eyed little gatekeeper off, but the man seemed… attracted rather than suspicious.

“Welcome to Justice House, Ms. Hépíng,” he said with a slight bow, his blue eyes discreetly admiring the fit of River’s dress. “Mr. Li has left word that that you are to see in him in his study.”

“Thank you,” River said, bowing her head.

They stepped through the gate into a circular gravel drive surrounded by mulberry trees. River paused while he gatekeeper pressed the button to close the gate and caught Mal’s eye, gesturing with one small hand at the guns strapped to his hips. Mal raised an eyebrow— he had been intending to wait until he was asked to hand his weapons over— but he unsnapped the holsters without comment. The gatekeeper said nothing, merely moved to a lockbox that was mounted on the wall beside the gate and punched in a key code. When the box opened, he indicated with an outstretched hand for Mal to deposit his armaments himself.

If the little man had done anything else, the captain might have tried to keep the weapons under his jacket hidden, but the guy knew that mercenaries didn’t take kindly to having other people handle their weapons and, furthermore, was polite enough to honor the fact. He was not a man to be fooled, but he might be a man to be trusted.

Within limits.

Mal unzipped Jayne’s jacket and put the Urqharts in the lockbox with the Zi Sus.

River gave him a beautiful smile of approval and the gatekeeper bowed again with a faint look of satisfaction on his face.

“Follow me,” he said, turning and leading them across the gravel towards the steps of the house.

River did not follow his instructions, choosing instead to walk beside the little man, leaving Mal to bring up the rear. Mal had the distinct impression that she would have taken the guard’s arm, had it been at a height for her to do so.

“I know that this is something of a breach of etiquette,” River said, “But, since I suspect I might see you under other circumstances one day, might I know your name?”

The debonaire little man let out a surprised laugh, and cocked his head at River, blue eyes glittering.

“Well spotted, _senorita_ ,” he said with a smile. “Alejandro Li Juhn, at your service.”

They had reached the front door at this point and Alejandro Li Juhn placed his hand on a scanner set into the granite doorjamb. The scanner beeped and the doors swung silently open.

“It must be a comfort to Mr. Li to be able to entrust his security to someone in the family,” River said, stepping through the door.

Mal followed, doing his best to keep his face blank. He was incredibly curious about where River was going with all of this, but he knew enough to keep his mouth shut. Juhn, meanwhile, appeared to have forgotten Mal’s existence.

“When one is in Mr. Li’s position, decorum is constantly at odds with safety and trust is an exorbitant luxury,” he said. “Fortunately for Uncle Xi, he happens to have a second cousin who looks harmless, can shoot straight, and doesn’t have anything better to do right now.”

“You find your job satisfying, then?” River asked.

Mr. Juhn shrugged negligently.

“For now,” he said. “Once Uncle Xi retires, I imagine I’ll find something else to do.”

“When you do, I hope you will remember me,” River said. “It is always good to have friends, especially out here on the Rim.”

“It is,” Juhn agreed. “So often, getting things done is all about who one knows.”

“Indeed,” River said with a silvery little laugh. “Our ship is experiencing that firsthand just now. We are, as I understand it, in need of a pilot, but what we have to offer is, shall we say, very specific. I am sure that there are plenty of pilots out there who need low-profile accommodations, run of the galley, and some creative problem-solving more than steady credits, but we don’t seem to know the people would could find them.”

 _What th’ hell?_ Mal wondered. _We’re hiring a new pilot? This is news t’ me. Thought I had one. What in the name of tarnation is the girl playin’ at?_

“It is their loss, Ms. Hépíng,” Juhn said gallantly. “I think such people as you are well worth knowing.”

“Likewise, Mr. Juhn,” River said.

“I trust you understand,” Juhn said, “That I am not quite as _respectable_ an acquaintance as Uncle Xi.”

Juhn pressed his hand to another scanner and leading them into a carpeted corridor.

“That’s alright, Mr. Juhn” River said. “I have found that things like that are much more… _fluid_ out here than they are in the Core. It is best to know people at all levels of respectability.”

 _Holy space monkeys,_ Mal thought. _She’s_ cultivatin’ _the bastard. She thinks— strike that,_ sees— _that this guy is going to set up his own organization once Li quits the bench. Assuming he hasn’t already_.

River, who was apparently still keyed into his mind, glanced over her shoulder and threw him a conspiratorial little smile.

 _Mind you, it’s not a bad plan,_ Mal thought, staring thoughtfully at Juhn’s back as he followed River and her new friend down the corridor. _Bet he learns all sorts of useful things, workin’ for a Federal judge and all. He must have the patience of Buddha himself though, not to mention quite a talent for long-term planning._

Mal allowed himself to get distracted, thinking about all the things a man could learn, being a security guard for a judge, but was snapped back to reality when River’s voice took on a dreamy quality.

“Among thieves, a man may gain respect for what he has rather than being reviled for what he lacks,” she said softly.

 _Oh lā shǐ_ , Mal thought.

River must have lost whatever connection she’d had to his mind when he got to daydreaming.

 _INARA_ , he fairly screamed in his head. _Gorramit, River, you’re Inara! No creepifyin’ th’ crime-boss-in-the-making!_

He pictured Inara for all he was worth and, although River didn’t turn, he saw her shoulders jerk slightly, indicating she’d ‘heard’ him. Juhn looked up at River with a troubled frown.

“I fear that your time on the Rim has not been wholly pleasant, Ms. Hépíng, if you have found thieves to be preferable to honest men” he said.

River, apparently recovered from her— or, more properly, _Mal’s_ — little lapse, gave him a bright, fake smile.

“Generosity and kindness can be found in the most unexpected of places, Mr. Juhn,” she said.

Thankfully, they had reached their destination by that point, because Mal had no idea _what_ he would have done if Juhn had decided to try and unravel the mystery that was River Tam. Or Leigh Hépíng. Or— damn, legally, she was River Reynolds now, wasn’t she?

Hell, even _he_ got dizzy trying to figure out that tangle.

Juhn knocked on the door and a light, measured voice bid them to enter. The guard turned the handle and swung the door open, gesturing for River and Mal to go in. Mal watched the little man out of the corner of his eye as he walked past him, seeing the speculative look in his face as he watched River approach the desk. Had Mal’s moment of inattention screwed them over, or had it simply gotten Juhn’s attention? Juhn might not be the worst friend to have, especially if he intended to go freelance one of these days, so getting his attention wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, but giving him the creeps… well, that was a whole other can of worms.

With a grimace, Mal turned his attention from Juhn to River and the man she was greeting.

Xerxes Li was a slim, self-contained man in his late sixties. His features were very much caucasian, but his grey hair was pulled back in a queue and he wore a Chinese-style jacket in plain grey silk. He had gotten to his feet when River entered and was now coming around the desk to greet her.

“Mr. Li,” River said, curtseying gracefully.

“Ms. Hépíng,” Li replied, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles formally. “It is an unexpected pleasure. It is not every day that a representative of the Guild requests a meeting.”

River’s eyes slid out of focus the moment Li’s skin touched hers and Mal tensed.

 _Inara,_ he thought to her. _Inara, Inara, Inara._

“Trying to trap the spider in a web she did not spin,” River murmured. “Not polite. Unworthy of the _maestro_.”

 _Duì shàngdì de ài hé suǒyǒu tā de xiǎo tiānshǐ,_ [12] Mal thought viciously. _Just once, why can’t it go smooth?_

Li’s face betrayed nothing, but his eyes widened slightly.

“Ms. Hépíng?” he said, his voice sharp and questioning.

 _Inara_ , Mal thought desperately. _Damnit, River, you’re Inara!_

River smiled another fake smile, but her eyes still couldn’t quite focus.

“I am no ravening wolf come to you in sheep’s clothing,”[13] she said. “I have never claimed to be aught but a lay sister in the Church of Love and Beauty. I knelt in the temple and looked down the path, but my destiny lay elsewhere.”

Li’s face gave nothing away, but he studied River for a long, long moment. Beside him, Mal heard Juhn shifting his slight weight, but he was unwilling to take his eyes off Li long enough to see what the other man was thinking.

At last, Li’s face relaxed and he bowed.

“Well spoken, my dear,” he said. “I am chastised for me ill manners. Indeed, you did not claim to be registered with the guild and it was unworthy of me to attempt to make you claim otherwise. You must forgive a cynical old man for his suspicious nature.”

River’s smile this time was genuine.

“A fox who allows strangers into his den without question makes all the animals of the forest nervous,” she said.

River had wandered off script so far at this point, he was pretty sure they were writing a different gorram play, and the gun in Juhn’s jacket was worrying Mal more by the second. If Li freaked, it would be a contest between Juhn’s shooter and River’s chopsticks, and while he had faith in River’s abilities, that match-up was just too uneven for his peace of mind.

Li, however, smiled.

“Ms. Hépíng, the Guild is poorer for your absence,” he said. “Please, sit and tell me what brings you here today. ‘Jandro,” Li turned to look at Juhn, “Could you ask Senora Vega to send us some tea?”

Mal saw the little man nod out of the corner of his eye, then Juhn stepped back, closing the door behind him, leaving Mal, River, and the judge alone. River took the proffered chair and Li returned to his own seat behind the desk.

“So,” Li said, studying River thoughtfully, “What is this matter you have to discuss with me, Ms. Hépíng?”

River met his gaze, her face solemn.

“I am just the matchmaker,” she said. “Your assignation is with another.”

She turned to look at Mal. Li fixed his attention on the captain for the first time and his shoulders tensed minutely. Mal stepped forward, careful to keep his posture unthreatening and his hands where Li could see them. After all, this was the perfect set-up for an assassination, had that been their goal— although if it had been, River would most likely be doing the job, being the one still armed and having trained for that kind of thing.

“Mr. Li,” Mal said, nodding at the older man, “I’m Malcolm Reynolds. Mutual friend of ours, lady goes by the name of Gorgon? She asked me to deliver a message to you.”

Li went very still. For a long, long time, the only sound in the study was the ticking of the old-fashioned clock on the mantelpiece and the discreet whine of a concealed modem. Finally, Li nodded and gestured for Mal to come forward. River rose from the chair and moved towards the window, clearly considering her part of the business concluded. The tilt of her head and the change in her gait indicated that the Companion mask had slipped again, but Li was too focused on Mal to notice.

“Sit,” Li said, nodding to the chair that River had just vacated.

Mal sat, holding Li’s sharp gaze calmly.

“What is your connection to Gorgon?” Li asked, his voice careful and controlled.

“I do business with her from time to time,” Mal replied.

“What sort of business?” Li pressed.

“Transport, mostly” Mal said, forcing himself not to react to what was shaping up to be a bona fide interrogation.

“You work for a shipping company?” Li said.

“No sir,” Mal said, refusing to be annoyed. “Me’n my crew are strictly freelance.”

“I see,” Li said, clearly _seeing_ a whole lot more than Mal wanted him to.

“Anyways,” Mal said, deciding to move this uneasy-making interview along, “We was on Canmar a few days ago and Gorgon… asked if we would mind deliverin’ you a message.”

River had come back from the window and was standing behind him, fingers resting lightly on his shoulder. Mal didn’t know why, and right now he couldn’t try to figure it out, but it was reassuring in a way.

“I see,” Li said. “And may I ask what this message is, Mr. Reynolds?”

Mal reached into his jacket— which caused Li, bless his cold judgy heart, to tense up like a tow cable— and pulled out Gorgon’s box, leaning forward to set it on Li’s desk. All three of them stared at it for a minute. Finally, Li leaned forward, pulled the box towards him, and lifted the lid delicately. He stared at the contents for a long, long time, his expression absolutely blank.

Mal watched the man uneasily, Gorgon’s words running through his head:

 _The favor is that you deliver it with discretion and compassion_.

They had done their best on the discretion part, but what the hell had the compassion been all about? What did that gorram inkstone and brush set mean?

River leaned down to murmur in his ear, and Mal suppressed a shudder of totally inappropriate arousal at the feeling of her breath on his neck. _Tā mā de_ , but having her dress up had been a bad idea.

“Letter to the family,” River breathed. “ _We regret to inform you_. Only sent to legal relatives, others have to depend on the kindness of friends to get word. We have carried news of Paris’s death to Helen.”

Mal studied Li thoughtfully, letting out a breath. He knew all about _we regret to inform you_ letters, goodness knew enough of them had been sent for members of his platoon, even before the Battle of Serenity. He remembered lying in solitary in Red Hope trying to imagine the sheer number of letters that had to be sent for the men and women who died in that valley, a forest’s worth of trees gone to make an ocean of death notices. And he knew who got the notices: parents, spouses, children, siblings. Certainly not friends and lovers, especially illicit lovers. He remembered drinking with the sergeant of another platoon one night and listening to her mourning the fact that, if she met a bullet, her no-account husband would get the news while her lover would get nothing at all.

Mal ran through his options quickly. He hadn’t ever been in a position to deliver bad news personally— he was a sergeant, not high enough in the ranks to have to contact the families— but he’d commiserated with the comrades of fallen soldiers, not to mention losing friends of his own, so he knew some tricks. While he was considering, River had glanced around the room and, apparently, chosen the best of the options running through his head. She touched his shoulder gently and, when he looked up, nodded to an ornate sideboard where three decanters and a set of cut crystal glasses rested on a delicate silver tray.

“Whiskey is on the left,” River murmured.

Mal nodded and got to his feet, moving to the sideboard. Li didn’t even seem to notice.

He poured a generous dollop of whiskey into one glass and a more conservative amount into another and brought both back to the desk. He set one before Li and sat down with the other, taking a small sip. He’d found that people were more likely to drink during the daytime if someone else started first. Sure enough, Li reached out and picked up the glass, tossing back half the contents without so much as flinching.

“Gorgon didn’t name names,” Mal said, using the steady but gentle voice with which he’d comforted green recruits and calmed shell-shocked veterans, “But I know that we brought bad news. I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Li.”

Li met Mal’s gaze. Mal didn’t flinch, but his gut twisted at the horribly familiar expression in the other man’s eyes.

“Thank you, Captain Reynolds,” Li said softly.

Mal nodded and tossed back the rest of the whiskey, trying to stave off the flood of memories that looking at such naked loss was sure to bring.

 

***

 

 _Need to hit something_.

Not her need. Mal’s need. Too much pain, too many memories.

_Looking into a kid’s eyes while giving the order to attack, knowing she’s too green to survive the first five minutes. Seeing soldiers lying in pieces, not enough of them to even send home. Staring uncomprehendingly at a vid screen as a newswave reports blandly that Shadow is now officially a ghost planet._

He couldn’t handle it all, just needed to smash a closed fist into a deserving face, pass the pain on somewhere it would do some good.

River held Mal’s arm, feeling his pain wash over her, and let her mind drift through the streets around her as they descended the hill from Xerxes Li’s mansion, searching for a deserving face for Mal to hit.

Petty embezzler, no spite, just greed. Unworthy of notice.

Alliance supporter, righteous, but for all the right reasons. Like Simon without the genius IQ or the tortured sister. Unsatisfying.

Abusive parent. Evil, but cowardly. Wouldn’t put up a fight.

It wasn’t until they reached the bazaar that she saw herself through three other sets of eyes and found what she had been looking for. Idle and entitled, looking at a sexual object that was too indifferent to them for their liking. No true malice, merely the evil of ignorance.

Often that was the worst kind.

Deftly, River steered Mal so that their paths would intersect. She had a moment of disorientation when she actually saw the eyes’ owners, looking both _at_ them and _as_ them, but she managed to reorient herself quickly, concentrate on them from the outside. They were young men, well-dressed and soaked in the languid insouciance common to the sons of the upper class. Their hair was slicked back, their clothes were artfully rumpled, and River could smell their cologne from four feet away.

“Well hello there, _kěkǒu de nǚhái_ ,”[14] said the first one, a tall blond in an almost vulgar green silk jacket.

Beside River, Mal tensed, becoming aware of the three young men for the first time.

“I see you’re suffering from a severe case of kissable lips, _mì táo_ ,”[15] said the second, shorter and darker with an unfortunate sparse mustache. “I hope you’re using them for good, not evil.”

“I can help with that,” said the third, a brunette who was taller and heavier than the other two with jaundiced skin and bloodshot eyes. “Would you like to—” here he said something so graphic that Mal’s mind stopped short for a second before dousing both him and River in a wave of clean, cold rage.

“Boy, you want to turn around and walk away,” the captain said, his voice soft and deceptively calm. “Right now.”

“Calm down, my friend,” the blonde said. “I’m sure you aren’t being paid enough to pay attention to every man in Epifanía who wants to talk to the _táng lǐzǐ_.” [16]

“And I’m sure it takes all of your daddy’s money to make womenfolk want to talk to you,” Mal returned with a humorless twist of his lips. “So, now that we’ve established our mutual disrespect for one another, why don’t you and your friends make yourselves busy somewheres else? Somewhere not here.”

“I don’t know what gives you the idea that you can speak to me that way, you smart-mouthed _húndàn_ ,” the heavyset man spat, “But I assure you, you are mistaken.”

“Well, can’t rightly be sure, not being overly educated and all, but I do believe this might have somethin’ to do with it,” Mal said, setting his hand on the butt of Jayne’s Zi Su.

While Mal had been facing off with the blond and the heavy man, he of the unfortunate mustache had managed to sidle closer to River. She could see his intent in his mind and would have liked to avoid the unpleasantness, but she had a purpose, so she suffered him to reach out and run one clammy hand down her jaw before pressing his thumb against her lips.

“Just as soft as they look,” he said, giving her what he thought was a rakish smile. “Open up for me, _wáwá liǎn_.” [17]

Before River could choose how to respond— throwing up on him seemed a satisfying choice, as did telling his friends that he enjoyed Rim-world folk music— Unfortunate Mustache was seized by the shoulder, spun around, and knocked down by right hook to the jaw. Mal glared down at him, hand still clenched. Blonde and Heavy-set took an involuntary step back.

“On second thought,” Mal said to no one in particular, “I’m suddenly feelin’ inclined to a more hands-on approach.”

He unholstered the Zi Sus, holding them out to River.

“You mind holdin’ these, darlin’?” he asked.

He wasn’t asking her if she minded holding the guns, she knew. He was asking if she minded sitting this one out. She smiled brightly, delighted with the success of her plan.

“My champion,” she said happily.

It really wasn’t much of a fight. The young men had some _tae kwon do_ training, but they clearly hadn’t practiced in a long time and had never fought anywhere except a _dojo_. They were not prepared for Mal’s particular brand of hand-to-hand combat, which, River had determined, was made up of almost equal parts Army training, mixed martial arts, and street brawling.

River held the Zi Sus awkwardly against her chest with one hand, leaving the other free in case she needed it. Sure enough, Unfortunate Mustache crawled to his feet, a hazy idea in his head that he could take River hostage while her bodyguard was occupied, like in the gangster vids.

A second later, he was letting out a choked squeal and staring at the stainless steel chopstick impaling his hand.

“No touching the artwork,” River admonished, yanking the chopstick free.

With a wild-eyed look at the crazy girl with the deadly hairpin, Unfortunate Mustache turned and fled, clutching his hand. River frowned after him, unhappy with the fact that she had stabbed him in the exact same place that she had shot Anapoulos.

_Pattern._

_Stigmata: wounds of Christ, appearing on sinners._

_Red-handed: marking those who have done wrong._

_Painful but harmless lesson: puncture wound between the third and fourth metacarpal, misses the ulnar nerve and hits only peripheral branches of the median. The victim can lose partial sensation in the middle and ring fingers, but that’s all. Hurts, but retains functionality._

Still bothered by the coincidence, she turned her attention back to Mal, who was just finishing up with the other two. Heavy-set was on his knees choking from a hit to the larynx and Blonde had just taken a punch to the face that had finished the fight for him, although he didn’t know it, since he still seemed to think he could win once his vision cleared.

His vision, of course, was not going to have a chance to clear, because Mal took the opportunity to drive a knee into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He fell ungracefully, joining his friend in wheezing agony.

The fight, short though it had been, had attracted quite a bit of attention, and, as Mal stood over the two men, River sensed that an official presence had arrived. She turned to see a pair of local law enforcement officers approaching, wary expressions on their faces. Quickly, she pushed the chopstick back into her hair and stepped forward to touch Mal’s arm.

“Template!” she whispered urgently.

He looked down at her, startled, but he understood and he hastily complied. Inara flooded his mind, a memory of her walking into a dark, grimy police station in full regalia, every movement and gesture screaming that she expected be obeyed.

“What seems to be the trouble here?” asked the older of the two officers, a short, greying man with a slightly bleary mind.

“Officers,” River said, feeling Inara regarding them imperiously through her eyes. “I would like to file a complaint against these men.”

She gestured to the young rakes lying on the ground.

They younger officer, a dark-haired woman whose mental laughter made River feel like her mind was being tickled with feathers, raised one eyebrow, enjoying the irony.

“And what about him?” the greying man said, resting his hand on the butt of his weapon and glaring at Mal.

The captain was standing very still, watching the proceedings carefully. The part of his mind not occupied with thinking about Inara was still calm and focused from the fight, and he didn’t honestly seem to care whether they were going to walk away from this or whether he was going to have to take two law enforcement officers down.

“He is my bodyguard,” River said as though this settled the matter.

The laughing officer looked puzzled, but the bleary minded one understood.

“Were these men bothering you, ma’am?” he asked.

“I am afraid so,” River said, casting a contemptuous glance at her erstwhile harassers.

Bleary Mind grimaced, clearly wishing he didn’t have to deal with this. He knew the two men on the ground and, more importantly, knew their fathers. It was worth his job to arrest them, but it was also worth his job to go against the Guild.

River smiled.

_Give him what he wants._

“On second thought,” she said, “Perhaps I will overlook this… incident. Filing a report would be tedious for all concerned and I have an appointment.”

“I’d be obliged, ma’am,” Bleary Mind said. “Best we consider justice served and go about our day.”

“What!” wheezed Blonde from his place on the ground. “This man attacked us! I demand he be prosecuted!”

Bleary Mind sighed.

“This man is a Companion’s bodyguard, son,” he said. “Believe me, you got off easy. The Guild doesn’t mess around when they’re out here on the Rim, they hire the best and give them license to use deadly force if anyone so much as looks at one of them wrong. Be grateful the lady ain’t making this official.”

Blonde spluttered incoherently and Bleary Mind turned back to River.

“I think it may be best if you continue on your way, ma’am,” he said. “Enjoy your time in Epifania.”

“Thank you, Officer,” River said graciously.

She turned to Mal, handed him his pistols, and, as soon as they were reholstered, took his arm and moved sedately away from the scene.

“Nice work, darlin’,” Mal murmured as soon as they were out of earshot.

The deadly calm was leaving him. River could feel a flood of hot, powerful emotions swirling through him, leftover adrenaline and anger mixed with triumph and enthusiasm and…

Arousal.

River frowned, searching for the guilt and the reservation that usually accompanied that feeling in Mal’s mind, but couldn’t find it. For once, Mal just wanted what he wanted and didn’t give a damn about whether it was right or not.

 _Jayne’s voice_ : fightin’ puts a body in the mood. Happens to most folks. You shoulda seen Zoe after a good fight: she’d drag Wash off t’ their bunk and th’ man wouldn’t be seen for hours.

 _Shepherd’s voice_ : Looking to feel alive, I venture.

 _Seven numbers: N, Ɛ, Ω, λ, Q, D, V. **[18]**_ _If any one were different, the ‘Verse would not be as it was. Seven variables: Ѕ, ρ, M, ≏, A, 褒, Ж. If any one were off, Mal would hate himself for taking advantage of her._

_Variables balance._

River drew them quickly into the shelter of a side street, causing Mal to go instantly back on alert.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“My champion,” River said, looking up at him with his own arousal and her response to it swirling in her eyes. “Fought for me, must now be rewarded.”

“You didn’t need me to fight for you, River,” Mal said, “You’re perfectly capable a’ defendin’ your ownself.”

The shindig on Persephone was clear in his mind, Inara’s ire at him fighting for her when she did not want him to.

River lifted her chin. She was not Inara.

“I could,” River said. “But I like it when you do it.”

Mal blinked and, for the first time since they’d entered the side street, he really looked at her. She saw herself through his eyes, the perfect Companion exterior now combined with innocent bright eyes and flushed cheeks. Magdalen meets Madonna.

_Sexy as hell._

“Oh really,” Mal said, the grin he gave her uncharacteristically reckless. “Well now, ain’t that an interestin’ fact. And just what did you have in mind as a reward, little Albatross?”

“Tradition dictates that a knight returning victorious may claim a kiss from his lady,” River said.

“Is that so?” Mal said. “Well, I’d hate to mess with tradition.”

River met his eyes and for a moment, time stretched and bent so that between one heartbeat and a next they seemed to live several lifetimes. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers and time snapped back into place and the universe dissolved into heat and chaos and need.

 

***

 

Jayne had had a fairly productive morning. He’d supervised the unloading of the cargo, gotten the fuel and water tanks topped up, and picked up supplies at the local depot. He’d also gone into the city and picked up a case of vials labeled in Mandarin which, Mal told him, contained the compounds Marie had identified back on Canmar. After River’s last two drug-related adventures, Jayne was decidedly wary of further experimentation, but Mal and River both seemed set on this, so he did as he was told.

Now he was in the cargo bay using the dockside water system to hose down the floors while humming an old song from his childhood:

 

“ _Go down t’ Old Lake Brutus_

_Where th’ nova lilies grow,_

_That’s where White Alba waits for us,_

_Every mother’s son does know._

 

_That’s where she lies, beside the lake,_

_With lilies ‘bove her bed._

_She dreams, but she will never wake,_

_For she is surely dead._

 

_Put a penny in your shoe,_

_Turn your shirt, and cross your heart,_

_Or in your arms she’ll take you,_

_Nevermore to part._ ”

 

He stopped singing when he heard steps on the gangplank and turned fast, relaxing when he saw it was Mal and River. He ran a quick eye over them, looking for damage. Sure enough, Mal’s knuckles were split and a few strands of River’s hair had fallen down, indicating there had been a scuffle of some kind. But there was also something else, too, something he couldn’t immediately identify.

Jayne frowned, studying them closer. Mal had a look about him, all coiled and edgy, and River… well, hell. Her lips were swollen, her eyes were incredibly bright, and her cheeks were all rosy under the makeup. He knew that look, he’d put it there enough times himself. That was how River looked when she’d been kissed until she was well and truly horny.

 _Well now_ , Jayne thought, _Ain’t this interestin’._

Mal, meanwhile, had hit the controls for the airlock, seemingly uninterested in the fact that the cargo bay was all wet and soapy. Jayne had a moment to be surprised that the captain was ignoring his ship that way, but as soon as the doors were closed, Mal had turned to River and was kissing her like he was dying of thirst and she was the last bit of water in the ‘verse.

Tā mā de, Jayne thought, swallowing hard.

He’d never been on this end of things before, and gorramit if it wasn’t a test of his restraint. After all, how was a man supposed to stand still and just _watch_ when… _xuèxīng dìyù_ ,[19] this was so _tā mā de_ hot. In the back of his mind, Jayne thought about the fact that Mal had been watching this kind of thing— plus a whole lot more— for days.

The man must have the willpower of a gorram _saint_.             After what seemed like a _very_ long time, Mal pulled back and looked down at River with an expression Jayne had only seen on his face a couple times before. He’d worn it when he decided to give back the medicine they’d stolen for Niska on Regina, and again when he told them what he was going to do with the Miranda Wave. It was his ‘I-am-about-to-do-something-very-right-but-very-stupid’ expression and it always made Jayne more than a mite twitchy, since it invariably meant that things were about to get very dangerous.

“You want to stop, you best tell me, darlin’,” he said, his voice uncommonly low and rough. “Mood I’m in right now, I’m liable to carry on ‘less th’ ship comes down on my head.”

“I know,” River said with a blinding smile. “Crops carefully planted, finally coming to fruition.”

“You _planned_ this?” Mal said, surprised.

“Sowed the seeds,” River said. “Had to wait for the harvest.”

“I shoulda known,” Mal said, shaking his head with a rueful smirk.

“Ain’t that th’ truth,” Jayne said with a wicked grin. “She’s been sayin’ it from the beginning, she’s just been waitin’ for you t’ pull your head out of _pìgu_. About time too, you need t’ get laid afore that muscle in your jaw snaps like a gorram guitar string.”

“Forces balance,” River said, smiling at Jayne. “Stable universe.”

“Wait, Jayne, you’re in on this?” Mal said, looking from River to Jayne and back again, “If I were a more suspicious kind a’ man, I’d call this a mutiny.”

“Technically correct,” River said, “Mutiny: open rebellion against the proper authorities, especially by soldiers or sailors against their officers.” She grinned cheekily up at Mal. “Seems to me, captain, that you could use this kind of mutiny happening more often.”

Mal looked completely bewildered, but his expression changed in an instant when River rose up on her toes to kiss him again. He made a sound in his throat that Jayne could almost have sworn sounded like a growl and Jayne realized he had about thirty seconds before things got out of hand. He cleared his throat.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, “I’m all for you two gettin’ with the sexin’. But you do it here, you’ll end up lyin’ in th’ washwater and that just ain’t hy-genic.”

Mal looked around and finally noticed the state of the cargo bay. He frowned, then, without further ado, picked River up and headed towards the stairs.

“You comin’?” he said without looking back.

“What?” Jayne yelped.

Sure, Mal had watched River with him, but Jayne had never imagined he’d want to do it the other way.

“Seems t’ be th’ way a’ things in this particular marriage,” Mal said, starting up the stairs. “‘Sides, you know what t’ do for her better’n I do. I don’t wanna hurt her or frighten her.”

“ _Tā mā de_ ,” Jayne muttered, but he followed Mal and River up the stairs.

They only made it as far as the galley before Mal’s libido got the better of him. He set River down on the edge of the table and started kissing her like there weren’t going to be no tomorrow, and she somehow managed to pull up the blue silk of her skirt and wrap her long, graceful legs around his waist in one smooth movement. Mal made a low sound of pleasure and Jayne had to suppress a similar reaction. He’d always known, of course, that seeing pretty girls doing dirty things was a turn-on, but he’d never thought about what it would be like to watch a girl he’d been with— and was going to be with again— with someone else. If Jayne had been as prone to sexual jealousy as it turned out he was to emotional jealousy, it would have been bad. As it was…

Well, this was going to be fueling his fantasies for about the next millennium.

The fact that the ‘someone else’ was Mal was a mite weird, but it was also reassuring in a strange way. He and the captain might not like each other all the time, but they had come to trust each other. Jayne knew that Mal wouldn’t use this against him and that he wouldn’t hurt River, and those were the important things.

River was hanging onto Mal, pressing herself up against him as hard as she could, but she didn’t really have very good leverage from where she was. Shaking himself, Jayne moved around the room and, with all the grace he could muster— which was a considerable amount, he was a sniper after all— slid up on the table behind her. He knelt with one knee on either side of her, bracing her against his body, and buried his face in her thick, shiny hair. She smelled like the shampoo she’d used that morning, but underneath that, there was the faintest tang of copper.

Blood.

Apparently she’d used his gift, Jayne thought, smiling with satisfaction.

He’d have to ask about that later. Right now, River was making those fretful sounds that indicated things were about to heat up real quick.

“Okay, she’s done waitin’, captain,” Jayne said. “Just remember, she’ll feel ready, but you still gotta make her come first or you’ll hurt her. She’s gorram tight.”

Mal flicked his gaze to Jayne and nodded in acknowledgment. Then, with a deftness that surprised Jayne, he proceeded to do just that. River moaned and arched against Jayne and he had time to think that this was about the sexiest thing ever before she came apart with a cry. Jayne sneaked a glance at Mal, who was looking both smug and bemused.

“Damn,” the captain said. “You really do have a hair trigger, little one.”

River smiled up at him and Jayne smirked. It was nice to see that he wasn’t the only one taken aback by River’s particular… _talents._

River, meanwhile, was reaching for Mal’s belt, and Jayne realized that she was going to take him as-is, guns and all.

He’d had been wrong. _This_ was the sexiest thing ever.

River scooted forward a little and Jayne braced her with one arm around her shoulders and a hand on her hip as Mal pushed into her with surprising force. She cried out and reached up so she could kiss Mal and Mal kissed her back hard while taking her even harder.

Jayne was a bit shocked, he would have expected Mal to be gentle as a lamb, with River at least, but the man wasn’t being in the least bit gentle. Hell, if Jayne hadn’t known River and known that the sounds she was making indicated that she was heading straight towards nirvana with no rest stops, he would of been concerned that Mal was hurting her.

It was over pretty quick. Both of them had had their blood up before they ever even got back to the ship and they didn’t seem particularly interested in drawing this out now. River came first, her inarticulate cry sending shockwaves of pleasure through Jayne and, presumably, Mal, who followed her a few seconds after.

Mal dropped his head, gasping, and Jayne breathed in the scent of River’s hair. River let out a satisfied sound.

“Ionization resolved,” she murmured. “Stable lithium atom.”

“Take it that means you approve,” Mal said, his voice rough and unsteady.

River sighed happily and leaned back against Jayne.

“‘Verse in balance,” she said contentedly.

 

 

[1] Fucked up mess

[2] Mink

[3] Persian myth. The Cup of Jamshid held the elixir of immortality and was used in divination.

[4] Sweet baby Buddha

[5] Holy fucking hell

[6] Hell

[7] For the love of goats and gerbils

[8] Big sister

[9] Epiphany

[10] Misquote of Karl Marx in _The Communist Manifesto_. The actual quote is “capitalism contains the seeds of its own destruction.” Elsewhere, Marx states that oppression creates resistance and it is probable that River is conflating the two citations.

[11] Peace

[12] For the love of God and all his little cherubs

[13] Allusion to Matthew 7:16: “Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.”

[14] Delicious girl

[15] Honey peach

[16] Sugar plum

[17] Dollface

[18] Martin Rees identifies six numbers that make our universe the way it is: N, the value of electronic force that holds atoms together. Ɛ, the number that defines how atomic nuclei bind together and that determines, among other things, how hydrogen converts to helium. Ω, which measures the amount of material in the universe. λ, which controls the expansion of the universe. Q, the ratio of two fundamental energies in the universe. And D, the number of viable dimensions in the universe. V is a fictional seventh value, identified hundreds of years later, and it describes how the universe moves along spacetime vectors.

[19] Bloody hell


	8. To Storm the Gates of Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

Jayne lay beside River on the exercise mat, looking up at the ceiling of the cargo bay. Jayne was used to long periods of waiting, but there were several things that made _this_ waiting gorram unsettling. First, he had not yet reached the point where he could lie beside River, smelling the scent of her hair and feeling the heat of her body next to him, without wanting to do something about it. Second, they were lying here waiting like this because she had taken a dose of the meds they’d picked up on Imperia, so there was even odds everything was about to go to hell. Third, he had a question he wanted to ask River, but he didn’t think this was the time or the place— although he didn’t rightly know what time or place would be more appropriate.

“And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive,”[1] River murmured beside him.

“Whatever these drugs do, they ain’t stoppin’ you diggin’ around in my head,” Jayne growled, although he wasn’t really all that annoyed.

“Not a shield,” River said, her voice soft. “A lens.”

“Helps you focus, huh?” Jayne said after a moment’s thought. “Well, that sounds good.”

“Uncertain,” River said. “Looking at one star, can’t see the ‘Verse it’s part of.” She rolled onto her side and looked up at him. “Ask,” she said.

“Alright,” Jayne said, turning to face her and propping his head on his hand. “You and Mal, you said you been plannin’ it for a while, but the time weren’t right, that it would mess with his head. What made yesterday different?”

He wasn’t certain why he was asking. Sure, he cared about Mal’s general well-being— there were only the three of them on this boat after all— but it wasn’t like he wanted to know the man’s darkest secrets or anything. But gorram it, it had been bugging him all day.

River frowned, thinking.

"Balance,” she said at last.

"You said that before,” Jayne said. “What does it mean?”

Again, River was silent for a long time.

“Newton’s Law,” she said finally. “Action and reaction. Only the captain is being pushed and pulled in many directions at the same time. All forces had to be in balance or he would tear himself apart.”

Yup, that was Mal alright, always tying himself in knots or threatening to blow up.

“And he ain’t gonna now?” Jayne said.

So far, Mal seemed to be dealing fine with the fact that he’d had sex with River on the _tā mā de_ dining room table, but it wasn’t like him to accept something like this so easy. Jayne had a nervous notion he might suddenly fly to pieces at the worst possible moment.

River frowned.

“Can’t see,” she said. “Stars are in the way of the stars.” She made a fretful sound. “I should know this,” she whined.

“Can’t see,” Jayne said. “You sayin’ that, what you took, it makes it so’s you can’t see what’s goin’ on with the captain?”

“Can see the present,” River said, “Not the future.”

“You normally see the future, _bao bei_?” Jayne asked, not sure he wouldn’t believe her if she said yes.

“The future begins in the present,” River said. “All paths may be traced by one that knows how to look. But I have a microscope now, not a telescope.”

“That good or bad?” Jayne said.

“Don’t know,” River said, making a face. “Hate not knowing.”

“Baby doll,” Jayne said, not quite sure how to say what he wanted to say, “You sure that, well, you _need_ any a’ this? Seems you been doin’ better lately. ‘Cept when that _húndàn_ off a’ the Alliance boat was stickin’ you full a’ _fèihuà_. [2] What I’m gettin’ at is, all these drugs seem t’ be messin’ with that pretty head more than they’re helpin’ it.”

“Getting better at finding myself in space and time,” River said. “Mind adjusting, adapting, refining, remaking. But still can’t talk so that others can hear.”

“Mal understands you most a’ th’ time,’ Jayne said. “And I’m gettin’ better at it.”

River looked up at him with those big dark eyes and smiled.

“Sometimes you whisper the sweetest nothings, Jayne Cobb,” she said softly.

Then, to his surprise, she stretched up and kissed him, a soft, warm kiss that sent butterfly tingles all down him but, curiously, didn’t tip the low-grade arousal he felt most times around her over the edge so he had to push her down onto the mat and have her right that very moment.

They broke the kiss and River pressed herself closer to him, burrowing her head into his chest.

“Spectacles are not for daily wear,” River said. “Wearing a microscope all the time is impractical. Useful for certain occasions, though.”

“You’re sayin’ there may come a time when you need t’ focus, even if you don’t like everythin’ this _lā shǐ_ does,” Jayne translated as best he could.

She pulled away a little and looked up at him with one of those blinding smiles that always made him feel like the king of the ‘Verse.

“Understands and comprehends,” she said. “ _Your slightest look easily will unclose me / though i have closed myself as fingers_.” [3] She sobered. “Going into the woods,” she said. “Wolves and witches, but the woodcutter is on vacation and we are all out of bread. Have to make the best of what we have.” River’s face changed, taking on the expression Jayne had come to think of as her ‘listening’ look, the look she wore when she was tuning in to something only she could hear. “Time to take the first step,” she said. “ _Once upon a time…_ ”

A second later, Jayne heard Mal’s feet on the catwalk and looked up to see the captain heading for the stairs.

“How’re you doin’ Albatross?” he said. “Any inclination t’ scream bloody murder or start cuttin’ on folk?”

“Glasses make me nearsighted,” River said.

Mal paused, clearly trying to work that one out, but he didn’t really have enough to go on, so Jayne decided to help him out.

“She’s been sayin’ this stuff helps her focus on th’ little stuff, but makes it hard t’ see th’ big picture,” he said. “Difference between havin’ a telescope and a microscope, I think she said.”

“Hmm,” Mal said. “Seems a mite inconvenient. Still, could be useful.”

“The game’s afoot,” River said, sitting up. “Hear the greyhounds baying.”[4]

“Indeed,” Mal said. “Those lawyers of Inara’s just called. Seems they’ve got some information for us.”

River looked at Jayne.

“Time to go see the Queen of Hades,” she said.

 

            ***

 

It had been a trying morning for Emerson Heatherly, Esq., associate partner at the Persephone law firm of Walbrook, Gates, & McMullen. First, his secretary had called in sick and he’d been stuck with a temp. The young man’s very first action as his secretary was to let Lady Schofield-Braun into his office, not knowing that Lady Schofield-Braun was under no circumstances to be allowed near Mr. Heatherly, per the firm’s policy.

Emerson had escaped with his virtue intact, but his shirt hadn’t been so lucky.

Next, Alden Lockwood had decided to change his will yet again and had spent _two hours_ in Emerson’s office exhaustively detailing the eventual disposition of his geisha doll collection.

For Buddha’s sake, the man was forty-eight. It wasn’t like he was even going to die any time soon.

Now, as the icing on the proverbial cake, named partner St. John Gates had, through some horrendous bit of mismanagement, been allowed into the same room with a client. Worse, it wasn’t a normal, run-of-the-mills client, but, rather, a family member in the human rights case the firm had agreed to work on at the insistence of Dame Roberta Norwood. When she had discovered this catastrophe in the making, named partner Francis McMullen had hurried— practically _run_ , in point of fact, compromising her dignity in a manner that only the threat of legal ruin could have persuaded her to do— to Emerson’s office. She had ordered him, in a tone that brooked no argument, to repair to Gates’s office posthaste and prevent the man from upsetting the client, invalidating the case, or getting the entire firm disbarred.

“Ah, Emerson!” Gates cried jovially as Emerson opened his door. “Come in, come in!”

Gates’s eyes were bloodshot, their pupils almost nonexistent, and his hands were shaking slightly. Emerson hoped against hope that it had been at least an hour since the man took… whatever he was taking these days, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t likely.

“Thank you, John,” Emerson said.

He stepped into the office and turned to look at the client— or, rather, clients. There were two of them, a man and a young woman, and everything about them was slightly odd. The man was, judging by his clothing, a Rim-worlder and, if the empty gun holster on his thigh was any indication, not a particularly savory one. He clearly felt out of place in Gates’s plush and plate glass office, but at the same time, he had an air about him that suggested that he answered to no one, despite the fact that he didn’t have enough coin to buy a jacket that fit.

The woman— girl, really, she couldn’t have been more than twenty— was even stranger. She too was dressed in clothing that said Rim, but somehow she managed to make the short-sleeved blue dress look elegant rather than cheap. She was very pretty, with dark hair pulled back into a braid and huge dark eyes, but there was something off about her. It might have had something to do with the tilt of her head, or the fact that her eyes didn’t quite seem to be in focus, or it might have been bandage on her left arm that Emerson couldn’t help staring at, even though he tried not to.

“Emerson,” Gates said, “I would like you to meet Captain Malcolm Reynolds and his _lovely_ wife River.” He turned towards Emerson and, winked conspiratorially at the younger lawyer. “They’re here about Bobbie’s concentration camps,” he whispered as though her were giving an aside in a two-bit stage drama.

Mrs. Reynolds flinched, while Captain Reynolds’s face took on a decidedly grim expression, and any private observations Emerson might have made concerning the couple’s age difference or the possible implications of the bandage on the girl’s arm were swept aside by the necessity of covering for Gates’s social gaffe. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them and offering the Reynoldses his suavest smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Reynolds, Captain Reynolds,” he said, wondering just what the hell this man was a captain of. “I’m Emerson Heatherly…”

“Holocaust,” Mrs. Reynolds said, her voice eerily calm and flat. “All burnt. From the Greek.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but her face remained expressionless. Captain Reynolds tensed and reached out a hand to her, taking her tiny fingers in his big, rough ones.

“Steady, darlin’,” he said.

“She does that,” Gates said knowledgeably.

Emerson cast him a pained look, then turned back to the girl. He was too practiced a trial lawyer to show it, but Mrs. Reynolds’s ramblings gave him a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. She was not quite right, that was clear enough, but it wasn’t just that. The word ‘holocaust’ was ringing uncomfortable bells in his head, something dark and ugly from Earth-that-was, a bogeyman of the past lurking at the periphery of his cultural memory.[5]

“Spiraling,” the girl murmured, the tears continuing to fall. “History returning. Same place in a different time. How much are we condemned to repeat?”[6] She frowned. “Simon,” she said sharply, turning to look at Captain Reynolds. “Where’s Simon?”

“Simon is her brother,” Gates put in. “Apparently he was on D’Aria when everything went—” he made a dying engine sound and used his hand to trace a crash course towards the table before enthusiastically vocalizing an explosion.

Captain Reynolds gave him a disbelieving look.

“So,” Emerson said with forced aplomb, “Am I correct in assuming that we are looking into the whereabouts of Mr…?”

He paused, looking about expectantly.

“Tam,” Captain Reynolds said shortly. “Simon Tam.”

“Of Mr. Tam,” Emerson finished, nodding.

Gates looked surprised and a bit puzzled.

“Maybe?” he said. “Duygu sent some… things in,” here he waved at a folder sitting on his desk, “But I haven’t looked at them yet.”

Captain Reynolds made an impatient sound in the back of his throat and Emerson resisted the urge to massage his temples; he was beginning feel a massive headache coming on. Reaching over the desk, he retrieved the folder and began perusing the contents. Meanwhile, Gates smiled urbanely at Captain and Mrs. Reynolds.

“So,” he said amiably, “Is she just _sort of_ crazy, or is she actually insane?”

Emerson nearly swallowed his tongue, but managed to remain quiet. He buried his head in the file folder in the vague hope that nobody would remember he was there. Gates’s secretary was more competent than most of the lawyers in the firm, so the information in the folder was comprehensive and concise. There was a copy of Simon Tam’s identification with a photograph and his vital statistics, along with copy of his medical license— apparently he was a doctor. In addition, there was an arrest report from D’Aria and a charge sheet signed by the captain of the Alliance Cruiser _Moscow_ stating that he was suspected of inciting civil uprising. Emerson had just gotten to the _Moscow’s_ prisoner manifest for the day after the incident when the captain’s voice pulled him back into the proceedings.

“I might ask you th’ same thing, Mr. Gates,” Captain Reynolds was growling back to Gates, “But that would be rude.”

Gates smiled and shrugged.

“It’s just, she’s a pretty young thing” he said, “But if she’s _too_ crazy… Can you even sleep with her?”

The entire room went deathly silent.

Emerson gulped and peered over the edge of the folder in trepidation.

The girl was frowning at a still jovial Gates in mild puzzlement, but her husband looked like he was seconds away from murder. Indeed, Emerson suspected that, had Captain Reynolds not been asked to disarm at the door, Gates would now be missing several key pieces of his anatomy. As it was, even Emerson, experienced lawyer though he was, couldn’t see a way out of Gates’s verbal transgression that did not involve bloodshed.

The horrible silence was broken by Mrs. Reynolds.

“ _It's a girl. Cute, too,”_ she said, her voice changing, becoming deeper and picking up a rim accent she hadn’t had a second ago. “ _But I don't think she's all there. 'Course, not all of her has to be…_ ”

Captain Reynolds’s death stare faltered momentarily, and Emerson shook himself.

“Is there any chance,” he said, seizing the opportunity presented by the captain’s distraction, “That we could forget what my colleague just said? In fact, might we pretend that the last thirty seconds ever happened?”

Captain Reynolds looked at him in bewilderment.

“What in th’ sphincter hell is goin’ on here?” he said.

“ _This must be what going mad feels like,_ ” Mrs. Reynolds commented in a careful, precise Core accent.

Emerson was beginning to suspect that he was going a bit mad himself, between Gates trying to fulfil a heretofore unsuspected death wish and Mrs. Reynolds switching accents every five seconds.

“Was it something I said?” Gates asked, finally catching onto the fact that all was not well in the offices of Walbrook, Gates, and McMullen this fine morning.

Emerson’s incipient headache abruptly blossomed into a full-blown migraine.

“John,” he said, closing his eyes against the suddenly painful brightness of the sunshine coming through the window, “I think perhaps you may have exceeded your _prescription_ on your _medication_. You know, your _medication_? That your _doctor_ prescribed after your _injury_?”

He glared at his colleague, who, he was now forced to acknowledge, was as high as a sonic kite. It was a tragedy, St. John Gates had been a phenomenal lawyer once, but he, like many a poor _chǔn dàn_ [7] before him, had succumbed to the pressure and was now a full-blown addict. With a law degree and a corner office.

Buddha help them all.

Captain Reynolds looked from Emerson to Gates and back again, realization dawning on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but his wife beat him to it.

“ _Never goes smooth. How come it never goes smooth?_ ” she said, again in a rim accent, but one that was slightly less pronounced than last time.

Despite his clear frustration, the corner of the Captain’s mouth twitched with amusement.

“Couldn’t a’ put it better myself, darlin’,” he said.

Mrs. Reynolds fixed Gates with a cool stare.

“Professional negligence,” she said.

Emerson felt his blood run cold at the terrifying phrase. Donning his sleekest smile, he set the file folder down on the desk and folded his hands in front of him.

“My apologies Mrs. Reynolds, Captain Reynolds,” he said. “Mr. Gates recently injured his— ah— back playing— um— water polo and is— ah— reacting poorly to his pain medication.”

Without giving them a chance to reply, Emerson moved to the door and poked his head out.

“Duygu?” he said to Gates’s secretary. “Could you take Mr. Gates down to the staff lounge? He’s— um— not feeling very well.”

Gates’s secretary met his gaze, her eyes widening in dread surmise. She rose, smoothed down her skirt, and moved quickly into the room. Gates was still trying to figure out what was going on and so did not immediately protest when Duygu took his arm and pulled him gently, but firmly out of his chair. By the time it occurred to him that he was St. John Gates, Esq., and that he did not allow his underlings such liberties, the intrepid secretary had him safely out of the door and Emerson was breathing a discrete sigh of relief.

“Now,” he said, smiling brightly, “Where were we?”

Mrs. Reynolds turned her cool gaze on him.

“Danish villains, all smiles,”[8] she said sourly. “Cause cephalalgia.”[9]

Emerson’s own smile faltered.

“I beg your pardon?” he said.

“Face plays one song, mind plays another,” Mrs. Reynolds said unhappily. “Resulting cacophony causes cranial discomfort.”

“Your insincere lip-curlin’ is givin’ her a headache,” Captain Reynolds translated helpfully. “Now, I don’t know what in the name of tarnation just happened and I don’t much care. I’m here t’ find out where my wife’s brother is and I aim t’ do it, and no matter how many idiots who’ve injured theirselves playin’ bathtub polo or what have you I have t’ go through.”

Emerson blinked at him. Several times.

Finally, when that didn’t get him anywhere productive, he sat down and picked up the folder, as much to keep his hands busy as to avail himself of the contents.

“I see,” he said. “Captain Reynolds, as you can no doubt see, I’m somewhat new to your case— brand new, as a matter of fact— so could indulge me by explaining your situation?”

Captain Reynolds regarded Emerson with a jaundiced eye, then gave a huff and began to speak in short, clipped tones.

“I run a cargo ship,” he said. “Small crew, do odd jobs on the rim. We was makin’ a pickup on the skyplex above D’Aria and I sent three a’ my people, includin’ Dr. Tam there, down t’ the surface on a supply run. Next thing I know, they’ve been caught in that damned uprisin’ and local sheriff’s tellin’ me they’re in Alliance custody. Been tryin’ t’ get word, but ain’t had much luck until we got your firm’s name from a… contact a week or so back.”

“I see,” Emerson said. “You understand that our firm isn’t actually offering our services to provide defense for those arrested on D’Aria?”

“I do,” Captain Reynolds said. “I’ll settle for knowin’ where th’ hell they are and if they’re alright.”

“I’m afraid that, based on what you’ve told me, I can only give you information on Dr. Tam,” Emerson said carefully. “As I said, we are not providing legal counsel. We are simply offering humanitarian aid to the families of those involved. I understand that Dr. Tam is Mrs. Reynolds’s brother?”

He was nervous, as he wasn’t certain how much bad news the rim captain could take before getting tetchy enough to do something about it, but, surprisingly, he accepted this of information as though he already knew it.

“I understand,” he said. “Anythin’ you can tell me about Simon, I’d be grateful. River… uh… ain’t rightly been th’ same since he’s been gone. Been worryin’ on him somethin’ fierce.”

Emerson’s gaze flicked over to the diminutive figure of Mrs. Reynolds, who appeared to be studying something only she could see located about sixteen inches above Gates’s desk.

“Yes,” he said uncomfortably, “Well, let me see what I can tell you.”

He opened the folder again and turned to the documents he had not yet had time to read. There was prisoner transfer order from the _Moscow_ to the prison transport _Pànduàn_ [10] and another transfer order from the _Pànduàn_ to… yes, he knew the internment camp, it was one of the top-secret, top-security ones.

The ones he couldn’t tell anybody about.

The ones that gave him nightmares based on the few reports and the handful of illegally obtained pictures that Dame Roberta had showed them when she put them on this case.

Grimacing, Emerson flipped to the last document, which showed Simon Tam’s name on the internment camp’s current list of inmates.

Emerson closed the file.

“I can tell you that Dr. Tam is, as of today, listed as alive and in good health,” he said quietly. “I can’t, at this time, tell you where he’s being held, as that particular location is classified. However, we are working on that. There are several other families on whose behalf we are petitioning for the information. I can add your name to the suit if you like.”

The Reynoldses stared at him for a moment, absorbing the information. Mrs. Reynolds had gone very pale and Captain Reynolds had a stoic expression on his face that Emerson usually associated with clients who were found guilty and were hearing their sentences.

“That… won’t be necessary,” the captain said at last.

Emerson frowned, puzzled. It seemed odd that someone who had been so diligent in trying to get news of his brother-in-law thus far would suddenly drop the matter when he was finally getting somewhere. The lawyer didn’t have time to dwell on the puzzle, however, because Mrs. Reynolds had begun to speak.

“Touched the spider’s web,” she whispered, her dark eyes blank. “Strands quiver through six thousand, eighty hundred and nine million miles of space, tell the spider where the fly might have been.”

“River!” Captain Reynolds said sharply.

“Thought he’d come back for the snake with wings, now that the wolves are no longer at the door,” Mrs. Reynolds said, ignoring her husband— and, apparently, everything else in the room. “Dedicated source box. Promise. Didn’t understand. The crown doesn’t make him king, he carries the world in his hands already.”

“ _Lā shǐ_ ,” Captain Reynolds swore succinctly. “River, you gotta snap out of it, honey.” He left his chair and crouched down beside the girl, putting a hand on her arm. “Look at me, little one,” he said.

She blinked and turned her head to look at him. For a moment, she appeared disoriented, then she started and shook her head, as though trying to clear it.

“Not relevant,” she whispered. “Not relevant.”

She looked at Captain Reynolds again and her lip trembled.

“Mal,” she said, her voice cracking, “I need… please, I need to go home. Dark… cold… bleak… what will they become?”

Captain Reynolds’s face darkened. He stood up immediately and helped Mrs. Reynolds to her feet.

“Sorry to cut this short, Mr. Heatherly,” he said brusquely, not sounding sorry at all, “But River’s havin’ a tough time with… all a’ this. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course, Captain Reynolds,” Emerson said, forbearing to mention that no, he didn’t understand at all.

Captain Reynolds nodded, already putting his arm around his delicate wife and guiding her deftly towards the door.

“Will they wait for Death to come, or will they send them out to meet him?” Mrs. Reynolds was whimpering as he opened it. “Such a narrow line to walk. Fell over before. Shoah. The Catastrophe. Couldn’t even count the victims. Six million? Eleven million? Can’t tell, can’t know.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Captain Reynolds said curtly.

They stepped through and door closed with a soft _click_.

Emerson slumped back in Gates’s chair and closed his eyes, finally at liberty to rub his temples as hard and as long as he liked.

This was turning out to be a _very_ trying morning.

 

***

 

Mal guided River out of the law offices as quickly as was rightly possible, pausing only to retrieve his sidearm before hustling her out the door onto the street. Jayne, who had been waiting for them outside the door, straightened from his casual slump against the building and looked at them expectantly.

“Well?” he said. “You get anythin’?”

“Besides a lawyer ridin’ the high-speed train t’ strung-outsville, a lot a’ unnecessary smilin’, and an urge t’ shoot some folk?” Mal said. “Ain’t rightly sure yet. River?”

“ _Jesse, don't call Stern. Billy, leave the catalyzer_ ,”[11] she whispered.

“Well, that’s just shiny,” Jayne said.

Mal grimaced and began to guide his little band of thieves away from the law offices at as brisk a clip as River could manage. Whatever River had seen back there, it had set her all akimbo and he wanted to get her back on the ship ASAP.

“You ever kinda wish you could just look into her head and see what’s there for your ownself?” Jayne asked as they made their way back towards the docks.

“I do,” Mal said.

River stopped dead, frowning ferociously at the pavement beneath her feet.

“Tea,” she said.

Mal exchanged a worried glance with Jayne before squeezing her shoulder lightly and urging her into a walk again.

“Come on, darlin’,” he said. “Let’s get you back to _Serenity_ afore you end up walkin’ off a cliff or some such.”

River began moving, murmuring to herself as she went.

“ _There is a place where the sidewalk ends_

_And before the street begins,_

_And there the grass grows soft and white,_

_And there the sun burns crimson bright,_

_And there the moon-bird rests from his flight_

_T_ _o cool in the peppermint wind._ ”[12]

“Well, don’t that sound mighty fine?” Mal said.

“Huh?” Jayne said.

 

***

 

They got back to the ship without incident— a miracle which Mal attributed partly to the fact that Walbrook, Gates, and McMullen was located on a different part of the planet than they usually frequented. If they’d been in Eavesdown like they normally were, he was fairly certain that one of their old acquaintances would have stopped them or they would have gotten into a fight with a group of individuals just a shade more shady than themselves.

As soon as they closed the airlock, River was moving with frantic purpose towards the infirmary. Mal and Jayne followed worriedly and watched as she dug out the stuff they’d picked up on Imperia and a syringe.

“Looks like she thinks she needs t’ focus,” Mal said, remembering what Jayne had said about River’s assessment of these particular meds. “You sure she was okay when she tried those out before?”

Jayne shrugged.

“Near as I could tell,” he said. “She didn’t seem too happy, but she were talkin’ fine and she weren’t hurtin’ herself.”

River, meanwhile, was injecting herself with the contents of the vials. Mal still wasn’t all that comfortable with the notion that she was so capable when it came to sticking needles into her own veins, but he supposed it was for the best. He could shove a needle into his heart in a pinch, but finding veins was a mite more delicate. And, as skilled as he was at stabbing people with sharp objects, Jayne’s technique was likewise somewhat lacking in finesse.

Finished, River left the vials and the spent syringes where they were and made her way quickly out of the room and up the stairs. They followed her through the mess and onto the bridge, but rather than heading for the cortex like Mal expected, she opened one of the lockers and produced one of her sketchbooks and a case of drawing pencils. She took these items and returned to the mess, where she sat down at the table, opened the sketchbook to a blank page, and began to draw.

Mal and Jayne watched for a few minutes, and gradually an image began to take shape. It was a picture of a series of ramshackled buildings behind what looked like a high-security fence. Mal recognized the transistors regulating the voltage and the razor wire on the top. There were three people standing just inside the fence, raggedly dressed and incredibly gaunt, staring out of the picture with blank expressions.

River finished the drawing and tore it out of the book, only to immediately begin another one. This one had the same general format, but the buildings were different. It appeared to be winter, judging by the piles of snow, and thirty or more people were huddling into a row of three-sided sheds, apparently trying to keep warm. Mal began to feel ill.

The next drawing was also a winter scene. In this one, a group of people— prisoners, Mal was all but certain that these images were of a prison camp, probably, given the context, the one where Simon was being held— were gathered around a huddled form on the ground. Mal couldn’t tell whether the person was dead or just unconscious.

River finished the third drawing, then set aside the pencils and picked up a pen. She began writing furiously, the words falling into neat, precise lines that were practically computer type. It took Mal a minute, but he soon figured out that River was reproducing the contents of that file the lawyer had had from memory.

 _Shàngdì de shèngjié mǔqīn._ [13]

Half an hour later, River stopped writing. On the table were three sketches that appeared to be reproductions of photographs, a number of handwritten facsimiles of official forms, and several sheets that appeared to be transcripts. River sat very still, staring at the papers littering the table. After a moment, Mal reached over and picked up one of the forms. It had a sketchy depiction of the Alliance seal on the top and the first lines read “Form 88_3689. ASV 977.897— 987— H _Pànduàn_. Order for Transfer of a Prisoner.” Below that, Simon’s name and information was listed and then the words, “It is ordered that the above named prisoner be transferred from:  ASV 977.897— 987— H _Pànduàn_ to:  44.36.Alpha, Deirdre Containment Facility, New Deirdre, Ita.”

“She got it,” he said.

He stared at the paper for a minute more, then passed it to Jayne, who traced the lines of print with one callused finger.

“Sonuva bitch,” he said. “They’re on Ita.”

“And I reckon,” Mal said, reaching over and picking up the picture of the people huddled into sheds, “That this is where they’re bein’ held.”

“Lowdown, dirty _yáng_ ,”[14] Jayne snarled, “Puttin’ Kaylee inna place like that. When I get my hands on those _méidú wéi yīgè gǒu de húndàn jiàntà de jíkǒu_ …”[15]

Mal had picked up another sheet, this one a list of names with a running head across the top that read “ _Deirdre Containment Facility_Prisoner Roster_ ” and gave today’s date.

He found Simon’s name right away, near the top of the left-hand column. Absently, he looked over the other names on the page, then, realizing that the list was in alphabetical order and that this page went from TAL to somewhere in the Ws, he ran his finger down the right-hand column.

And there it was.

Black and white print, River’s pen reproducing computer font, spelling out the words _Washburne, Zoe Alleyne._

“ _Wǒ de ma_ ,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. “She’s there. Zoe’s there. She’s alive.”

“ _Shèng shǐ_!” [16] Jayne swore. “What about Kaylee?”

“Wrong list,” River whispered. “Should have married Simon, names one below the other, bricks in a wall.”

“River only saw th’ page that has Simon’s name on it,” Mal explained. “Goes from ‘Tallis’ to ‘Wazu.’ Kaylee’s last name is Frye, she wouldn’t be here. Pure luck that Zoe made it onta th’ same page.”

“Same place, same time,” River murmured. “Probabilities high that she was sent to the same place. No way to know if she’s still there. No way to know if she’s still shining.”

“Don’t reckon nobody’s shinin’ terrible much in this place,” Mal said darkly, looking at the pictures again. “Right. We need a plan.”

“ _Hell's foundations quiver_

_At the shout of praise;_

_Brothers, lift your voices,_

_Loud your anthems raise_ ,”[17] River sang softly.

She looked from Mal to Jayne and back again.

“Hell itself must surrender when Hercules, Demeter, and Dante storm the gates together,” she said.

 

***

 

Despite River’s rather grand statement, the next three day didn’t see them coming up with anything even remotely resembling a plan. They got a job, a weak-tea cargo run from Persephone to Santo, which put food on the table, but only highlighted what they already knew: they were running on fumes and prayers as it was. They did not have the coin to finance an attack on a henhouse, nevermind storm the gates of hell.

River had practically stopped sleeping. She spent hours on the bridge scanning the cortex, muttering to herself and jotting down senseless scribbles in her sketchbook. Mal wasn’t sleeping much more himself. He had kept her original notes and drawings and he stayed up late into the night studying them obsessively, looking for any and every scrap of information about the Deirdre Containment Facility. It turned out that part of what River had gotten a read on at the lawyer’s office was the original reports on the internment camps that had set the whole humanitarian effort in motion. There was a two-page description of the Deirdre facility dictated by some guy on a cargo ship that had made a drop there and that, along with the drawings, gave Mal a very rough idea of the layout and the security, though it wasn’t terribly reliable. Beyond that, he had nothing to go on except the list of prisoners, which had already told him as much as it could. Still, he kept looking, as though there might be some code somewhere that would be revealed if only he stared long enough.

After the drop on Santo, which nearly broke the little Mal-not-getting-shot streak they had going, they really had nowhere in particular to go, and so ended up parking _Serenity_ out in the desert while they took stock of their options. Mal didn’t like it one little bit, he preferred being in the Black, but being in the Black took power and they were trying to conserve… well, everything.

It was after dinner— well, lunch really, but the difference between Santo time and the schedule they were keeping this week meant that they were eating their third meal of the day while it was high noon outside— when River came into the mess carrying a vial and, not one, but two syringes.

“Why do I feel like I ain’t gonna like this?” Mal said to no one in particular, staring warily at the syringes.

“Because there’s no way that this here ends well?” Jayne asked, also staring at the needles with an expression of grave misgiving on his face.

“War Counsel,” River said. “Round Table must convene, but the table here isn’t right.”

“Mmmhmm,” Mal said. “And where do yonder needles fit inta all this?”

“Camelot is in another universe,” River said, “Like in Medusa’s cave.”

Mal thought about this for a minute, then said, “Medusa? You mean Gorgon?”

River nodded and set one of the syringes down. She took the other and stuck the needle through the lid of the vial, pulling back the plunger slowly.

“O-kay,” Mal said. “And what does Gorgon have t’ do with Camelot?”

“Good counsel cannot come to us,” River said, setting down the full syringe and picking up the empty one. “We must go to it. Medusa cast the spell once, now we must do it ourselves.”

“Uh, Mal?” Jayne said. “I may be wrong, but ‘castin’ a spell’? Think she’s talkin’ about Gorgon sending you on that little trip t’ lala land.”

“ _Tā mā de_ ,” Mal swore. “No! I do _not_ wanna do that again!”

“No choice,” River said. “Only way Hercules, Demeter, and Dante can be in the same room.”

“I don’t get it,” Jayne said.

“When Gorgon drugged me, I had this… dream, I guess you could say,” Mal tried to explain. “Weird stuff, Wash an’ th’ Shepherd, Serenity Valley, flying through a hailstorm a’ planets moons, an ocean that was all stars. I thought I was just hallucinatin’, but later, River said that part of it was actually _her_ dream, that whatever Gorgon gave me let me wander int’ _her_ head.”

“Best possible approximation,” River said, holding up the second syringe.

“Wait, wait,” Jayne said. “Crazy girl, are you sayin’ that you picked up somethin’ back on Imperia that works like that crazy witch’s brew Mal drank on Canmar? And that it’ll let us go traipsin’ about your brainpan like you do ours?”

“Didn’t know I’d asked for it until I found it,” River said. “Twilight makes many things clear that cannot be seen at other times, must have known we would need to walk among the stars.”

It should, Mal thought a few minutes later, have been obvious from the beginning that River would get her way. Even leaving aside the fact that he had come up dry as far as making a rescue plan was concerned, he and Jayne had a terrible track record when it came to saying no to River. In fact, when he considered the score, he came up with a big fat zero in the ‘no’ column and, well, a whole lot of ‘yeses’ on the other side of the tally sheet. But they had still, somehow, seen the need to put up a fuss, even though the upshot was the same: them sitting patiently at the table and letting River inject Buddha-knew-what into their arms.

 _Why does this kinda thing always seem t’ happen t’ me?_ Mal wondered sourly as the room around him began to blur.

 

***

 

At first glance, the version of the mess that Mal found himself in looked exactly like the real mess, right down to Kaylee’s cheery flowers painted all over everything. However, a glance around revealed one or two subtle differences. First, the table the were seated at was round rather than rectangular. Second, there was a 3D projector sitting in the middle showing a weird amphitheater-type thing with little demons running around in it. Third, their group of three had somehow become a group of six.

Mal wasn’t really surprised to see Book and Wash after last time, but the tough-looking woman with graying hair and a no-nonsense expression was a bit of a shock. What was even more of a shock was Jayne giving a startled little yelp and then saying, “ _Ma?_ ” in a tone that indicated both disbelief and fear.

“Oh my God,” Wash gasped. “That’s _Jayne’s mother_? Jayne has a _mother_? I always thought he just sort of sprang into the ‘Verse full grown, all big and tough and mean. And armed.”

“Jayne,” the woman said, her voice hoarse, but powerful, “I gots a bone ta pick with you, boy. How is it you got married and I ain’t never heard a word about it?”

“Mal,” Jayne said, sounding purely panicked, “What th’ ruttin’ hell is goin’ on here?”

“Language, Jayne!” his mother snapped.

“Counselors come from afar to offer their wisdom,” River said. “The king brings his departed crew, the knight his wise mother.”

“So Wash and Book are out a’ my head and Jayne’s Ma is out a’ his?” Mal hazarded.

“That’s just how the guest list was written,” River said. “Now that they’re here, they come from all of us.”

Mal was trying to wrap his head around that when Jayne’s Ma spoke again.

“Well, boy?” she said, folding her arms. “Aren’t you goin’ t’ introduce me t’ the new missus?”

Jayne, looking like he’d taken a good knock upside the head, nodded.

“Ma,” he said, “This is River. River, this is my Ma, Vera Cobb.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cobb,” River said, nodding graciously.

Wash made a loud choking noise.

“You named your favorite gun after your _mother_?” he said.

Jayne cast Wash a look.

“‘Course I did,” he said. “Ain’t no one ever looked out for me as good as my Ma. Ain’t no one cleverer in a tight spot, neither. Some day, I’ll tell you what happened t’ th’ cattle rustlers as tried t’ steal our beef when I was a young ‘un.”

“Welcome t’ th’ fam’ly, honey,” Vera Cobb said, giving River a warm smile that transformed her whole face.

“I would also like to offer my congratulations to all of you,” Shepherd Book said. “I only wish I had been able to perform the ceremony myself.”

Jayne made an inarticulate noise and Mal stared.

“I don’t even know what t’ say t’ that,” he said.

“Just go with it, Mal,” Wash advised. “Now, not to break up this moving reunion scene, but don’t we have work to do?”

“ _Can someone explain what th’_ tā— er, that’s t’ say, can someone explain what in tarnation is goin’ on here?” Jayne said with a nervous glance at Vera Cobb.

“As I understand it,” Book said, smiling gently at the motley crew assembled around the table, “We’re here to plan a rescue mission.”

“Speaking of which, doesn’t that ring a bell?” Wash said. “Isn’t that what was going on the last time we came back from the dead for a pow-wow? Is anybody else sensing a pattern here, or is it just me?”

“Where the h— er, heck are we?” Jayne persisted stubbornly, clearly not interested in Wash’s commentary.

“I believe that we are in a shared psychic construct,” Book said thoughtfully. “River is, of course, controlling it, but her consciousness is being filtered through your minds and is utilizing your memories. Hence, while I am telling you what she knows, I am doing so in my own words.”

“But… you ain’t really you,” Mal protested. “I remember that from last time, Wash said he was really my subconscious or whatever.”

“Yeah, and you have _no_ idea how happy that made me,” Wash put in. “I’ve been dying provide you with a hotline directly to your id practically since I signed on with this crew, and now that I have, in point of facty, died, I can actually do it. Funny how that works out.”

“You got a mouth on you, don’t you little man?” Vera Cobb said, regarding Wash with an amused expression.

“I suppose I may have misspoken,” Book said, ignoring the byplay. “I guess I should have said that I am speaking as the three of you, collectively, expect me to speak. All of us, Wash, Vera, me, we are projections out of your memories.”

“And… you’re speakin’ for River,” Mal said.

“Hey, I am too,” Wash said, raising one hand. “Although frankly, I think I may be here mainly for the comic relief.”

“Why can’t you talk your ownself, little Albatross?” Mal asked, looking over at River.

She was sitting very still, hands folded on the table before her.

“My voice cannot sing this song,” she said. “Not suited.”

“She has a plan, Captain,” Book explained. “However, it is too complicated for her to put into words directly. Here, she can use your mind, and Jayne’s, to translate what is in her head into words you can understand.”

“Shepherd,” Vera said, “All due respect t’ th’ cloth, but I believe we have things must be done before my boy and his fam’ly have t’ head home. Quit yer jawin’.”

“My apologies, Vera,” the Shepherd said. “You are quite right, of course.”

“ _Yēsū, fú, hé tāmen suǒyǒu de dìdì_ ,”[18] Jayne moaned. “Ma an’ the preacher in cahoots. It were always bound t’ happen, but _tā mā de_ if it ain’t all sorts of unsettlin’.”

“They’re both actually River right now, if it makes you feel any better,” Wash said helpfully.

“Ungh,” Jayne moaned. “My wife lookin’ like my Ma and a preacher? No, Wash, that _don’t_ make me feel better.”

“Hmm,” Wash said. “Well, when you put it that way… you’re right, that sounds bad. Like, really, really bad. Like, I’m-never-having-sex-again bad.”

“Thanks, Wash,” Mal said. “Hows abouts we get t’ the plannin’ before we all grow old?”

“A fine idea, Captain,” Shepherd Book said.

“Right,” Vera Cobb said in commanding manner that Mal could only hope to imitate. “We got us three things that gotta be done. First, get the first mate, the doc, and Ms. Frye outa that Alliance camp on Ita. Second, make sure nobody can take ‘em back once we got ‘em. And third, make sure you lot don’t get put on the Alliance’s watchlist again, ‘cause I’m tellin’ you right now, I do not appreciate my baby boy bein’ a fugie.”

“ _Ma_!” Jayne whined, flushing.

“So we gotta rescue Zoe, Simon, and Kaylee without anybody knowin’ it was us as did th’ rescuin’,” Mal summed up.

“Yes,” Shepherd Book said. “We would also, ideally, like to make sure that, once they’re back on _Serenity_ , Zoe, Simon, and Kaylee are no longer wanted by the Alliance.”

“Well, that sounds like a bit of a tall order,” Mal said. “Even if we _could_ break ‘em out without anybody tyin’ us to th’ job, their arrest records ain’t just gonna go away.”

“Ah!” Wash said. “But we have a plan!”

“A plan,” Mal said, taking a deep breath. “Right then. Let’s do this.”

 

***

 

An hour later, Mal, Jayne, and River were blinking at each other across the actual table in _Serenity’s_ real-life, _not_ -hallucinated mess. Mal had a headache to end all headaches and Jayne looked like grim death warmed up and served with a side of plum miserable. Even River looked a little the worse for wear.

“Jesus, Mary, an’ Joseph,” Mal said, falling back into the speech patterns of his youth.

“What th’ ruttin’ hell just happened?” Jayne groaned.

“I think we just made th’ most _xiǎo tùzǐ_ [19] crazy-ass plan in th’ history a’ this screwed up ‘Verse,” Mal said.

River, meanwhile, had produced her sketchbook again and was writing busily. She finished, tore out the page, and handed it to Mal.

“What’s this, Albatross?” Mal asked, looking at her groggily.

“Shopping list,” River said, rubbing her forehead vigorously with one hand.

Mal looked at the piece of paper in his hand. It was, indeed, a list, all neat and numbered and everything:

  1. Back-up Pilot.
  2. Food for approximately 400 people for 5+ weeks.
  3. Guns and ammunition to arm 50+ civilians.
  4. Slaver ship or similar with 400+ person capacity.
  5. 10+ able bodies capable of looking like desperate individuals. 



[1] Matthew 21:22

[2] Crap

[3] From e. e. cummings, “somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond.”

[4] Allusion to Shakespeare’s King Henry V.

[5] The fact that Heatherly can't remember is probably what inspires River’s subsequent reference to Santayana.

[6] Reference to philosopher George Santayana: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

[7] Dumb bastard

[8] Allusion to Shakespeare’s Hamlet:

O villain, villain, smiling, damnèd villain!            

My tables—meet it is I set it down            

That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain—            

At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark.

[9] Medical term for headache

[10] Judgment

[11] From _Out of Gas_

[12] From Shel Silverstein’s “Where the Sidewalk Ends.”

[13] Holy mother of God.

[14] Sheep fuckers

[15] Syphilis-ridden excuses for a dog’s asshole

[16] Holy shit

[17] From Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould’s “Onward Christian Soldiers.”

[18] Jesus, Buddha, and all their little brothers

[19] Bunny brained


	9. Ain't No Oracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

Mal sat leaning back in the pilot’s chair, looking out at the stars. The autopilot light glowed on the console in front of him, telling him that he didn’t need to be there, but he ignored it. He had thinking to do and this was the best place to do it.

He didn’t feel bad, that was the hell of it. He’d been over and over it in his head— more than was seemly, he had to own— and there was no two ways about it, he’d done exactly what he’d said he wouldn’t: been with River. His moral compass— which, granted, had gotten a little dinged up over the years, but which still worked passably well most of the time— should be swinging to point squarely at ‘going to the special hell.’

But it wasn’t.

Truth to tell— and if there was ever a time to tell the truth, it was like this, when there was nobody but him, _Serenity_ , and the black to hear— he was feeling mighty fine about the whole thing. It was like something in the ‘verse had slid a few inches in the right direction and had fallen into place. Suddenly everything seemed to make sense.

Or as much sense as it _could_ make, what with them being engaged in a _fēng le_ enterprise conceived by a group hallucination of a dead Shepherd and Jayne’s Ma.

He couldn’t really describe it, even to himself. It was the damndest thing. River and him, River and Jayne, River, him, and Jayne, it made no sort of logic to a rational mind, but somehow it felt… right. Like there was order in the ‘verse all of a sudden. It made no sense, not to mention being morally suspect in more ways than he could count, but that didn’t seem to change the fact that he hadn’t felt this confident about something since he stopped looking to the Lord to make all things as they should be.

“Doesn’t work like that,” said River’s soft voice from the doorway.

“ _Wǒ de ma_!” Mal gasped. “River! Didn’t know you was there, little one. Like t’ give me a heart attack one a’ these days.”

“You think I’m like Him, see everything, know everything, make sure it all happens for the best,” River said, stepping lightly onto the bridge and coming to stand beside Mal’s chair. “Not how it works.”

“How does it work then, darlin’?” Mal asked, settling back into his chair.

“Like I told him,” River said, brushing one hand lightly across the console. “An angel. Powerful, but not infallible. Lucifer falls, Michael rises.” She turned to look at him. “I’m a mirror, Mal. If someone finds grace in me, it’s because they were already carrying it within themselves.”

“Don’t explain how you keep savin’ us, little one,” Mal said.

River gave him the “boob” look.

“Of course it does,” she said. “You. Jayne. Arthur and Lancelot. Between you, you carry enough grace to make a heaven. A small one. Comfortable. Kept in the sky by strength and love.”

“ _Serenity_ ,” Mal said. “You’re talkin’ about _Serenity_.”

“Peace among the stars,” River agreed.

“Don’t know ‘bout that, little Albatross,” Mal said. “For one thing, seems t’ me some of th’ things we’ve been gettin’ up to, past few weeks, ain’t fit activities for heaven, nor angels neither.”

River cocked her head, then bit her lip and let out a giggle.

“ _Let it suffice thee that thou know'st_

_Us happy, and without Love no happiness._

_Whatever pure thou in the body enjoy'st_

_(And pure thou wert created) we enjoy_

_In eminence, and obstacle find none_

_Of membrane, joynt, or limb, exclusive bars:_

_Easier then Air with Air, if Spirits embrace,_

_Total they mix, Union of Pure with Pure_

_Desiring; nor restrain'd conveyance need_

_As Flesh to mix with Flesh, or Soul with Soul._ ”[1]

She cast him a look that was pure mischief.

“Angels have sex, Mal,” she said. “Really _tā mā de_ good sex.”

Mal stared at her, wide-eyed, then threw back his head and laughed until the tears came.

“Oh, darlin’, I needed that,” he said once he’d gotten himself under control and wiped his eyes.

River grinned, then stepped towards him and crawled gracefully into his lap. Mal wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair.

“You’re more’n a mirror, darlin’,” he said softly, running one hand up and down her back. “Probably got more grace of your own in your baby finger than we do in our whole selves.”

“A person,” River agreed. “Actual and whole. But also a mirror. And a weapon. Your weapon now, have the papers and everything.”

Mal was about to protest that he didn’t own her when he realized that she might have been making fun of the fact that, by virtue of the fact that they’d signed marriage papers, they technically “belonged” to each other. He pulled back to look at her.

“Did you just make a joke, little one?” he asked.

She looked up at him, all innocence except for the spark of mischief in her eyes.

“You little…” he said, laughing.

She laughed with him, then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, leaned up and kissed him.

She tasted of light and shadow and hope and he thought, in that moment, that _Serenity_ really must be heaven, because where else would anything taste so good? And her body was pressed up against his in a way that felt all sorts of shiny, and somehow he was able to enjoy it without all of the anger and guilt and regret that normally accompanied such experiences for him. He was just beginning to contemplate whether he should put some of the knowledge that he had (very unwillingly) accrued from years of living on this boat with Zoe and Wash to good use when the com beeped.

Mal pulled back from River and glared at the console. River regarded the flashing light with a contemptuous expression, clearly indicating her utter disgust for the instrument and whoever was on the other end of it.

“Mammals do not appreciate interruptions while mating,” she snapped, surprising a bark of laughter from Mal.

He set her carefully on her feet and scooted forward so he could see who was calling. At the sight of the wave ID, he frowned in disbelief.

“Inability to learn from experience,” River commented, sidling out of sight of the camera. “Symptom of psychopathy. Also superficial charm, lack of remorse, and a grandiose sense of self-worth.”

“Sounds about right,” Mal said dryly, punching the button. “Hello, Badger.”

“Well, well, Malcolm Reynolds,” said the middleman in his thick Dyton accent. “Now ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“If by ‘sore eyes’ you mean th’ black eyes I would like t’ give you after our last encounter, you may be right,” Mal grated out.

“Now, Mal, I was just the messenger in that unfortunate episode,” Badger said with a charming smile. “You wouldn’t shoot the messenger, would you? Man of honor like you? Anyways, that was years ago. Water under the bridge now, eh?”

“Like hell,” Mal said. “We came within spittin’ distance a’ meetin’ a very untimely end at Sturges, so forgive me if I ain’t feelin’ too kindly towards th’ man that sent us there.”

“Come on, Mal, you’re smarter ‘an that,” Badger said, his expression suddenly serious. “You think they told me it was a set-up? That’s not ‘ow people like us do business.”

Mal had to own, if he were planning on using the greasy little rodent to set somebody up, he wouldn’t tell him either. Still, mistrusting Badger was too ingrained a habit to be kicking anytime soon.

“What th’ hell do you want, Badger?” he growled.

“Word has it that you’re looking for a backer on a salvage operation,” Badger said, leaning back in his chair. “I ‘ave t’ say, Mal, I was hurt that you didn’t come to me direct.”

Mal blinked. Then blinked again. Then blinked a third time, just for good measure.

“Badger, have you been in some sorta accident?” he asked incredulously. “Maybe taken a hit t’ the head that’s caused you t’ forget all of our delightful dealin’s these past five years? I’m thinkin’ I need t’ refresh your memory. Leavin’ aside Sturges— which, by th’ by, even if you didn’t set us up knowin’, that was not exactly a lucrative endeavor for us— there’s th’ cargo you left us holdin’, which caused us all manner a’ grief. Then there’s th’ matter a’ you takin’ over my boat during that unpleasantness at th’ Governor’s Ball, which you may be sure I do not remember kindly. And that ain’t even beginning t’ touch on th’ many disparaging comments as to my character you’ve made along th’ way. Any a’ this ringin’ a bell?”

Badger looked puzzled.

“We’ve ‘ad our share of differences,” he acknowledged. “But you an’ me Mal, we ain’t little girls at a tea party, crying over who gets the last bloody biscuit. We’s businessmen.”

Mal goggled at him. On the other side of the console, River was biting her lip, trying to keep from laughing out loud.

“That may well be,” Mal said, trying very hard to ignore the alarming mental image of Badger wearing a frilly dress and sitting at a tea table, “But when a man of a businessy persuasion gets screwed over time he engages in a particular transaction, he generally starts t’ steer clear a’ said’ transaction. Kinda like I’ve been steerin’ clear a’ you.”

“Well then, allow me to take this opportunity to change our transaction ‘istory for the better,” Badger said, barely missing a beat. “I’m offering to front the costs of this little operation of yours for a mere 12% of the overall profits.”

Mal started. The percentage was ridiculously low by any standards and was absolutely ludicrous compared to Badger’s usual extortionary rates. Clearly the greasy little fellow wanted something.

“Okay, Badger, what's your angle?” he demanded.

“Merely improvin’ relations with a valued associate,” Badger said with a flash of his stained teeth.

Mal frowned.

_‘Valued associate,’ huh? Since when? I’ll tell you, since never. What is he up to?_

Hoping for guidance, he looked at River. She shrugged and pointed to her ear, then shook her head. Apparently, she couldn't read Badger over the wave.

“Alright, Badger,” he said, deciding to play along, at least until he could get River in the same room as the middleman and find out what the hell his game was. “We should be touchin’ dirt some time tomorrow. We’ll drop by and have a little chat about this proposition of yours, and I warn you, if I have so much as a goosebump says you ain't bein’ straight with me, I will have Jayne tie you into a very pretty knot for wastin’ my time.”

“I shall look forward to it,” Badger said, and, with another flash of his yellowed teeth, he cut the wave.

“Am I alone in findin’ that a creepifyin’ conversation?” Mal asked River.

“Miser being generous,” River agreed. “Suspicious and frightening. Knock him down, call for help and a straight waistcoat.”[2]

“Well, at least I got two a’ th’ scariest people in the ‘verse t’ do the knockin’, it comes t’ that,” Mal said, smiling at her.

“Told you,” River taunted. “Weapon.”

She held out her arms and spun around in a circle, her dress floating out around her like the petals of a flower.

“You also told me you was an angel,” Mal said, standing up and going over to her, “And right now, I’m much more interested in the angelic t’do list you had in mind than in you shootin’ folk.”

River spun into his arms, laughing, and looked up into his eyes. Apparently seeing what he’d been thinking just before Badger waved, she smiled.

“Wash would be pleased,” she said. “Teaching us all the ways it’s possible to make love on the bridge; a worthy legacy.”

Mal felt himself flush. No matter that they had already, well, done the deed, her just out and saying what he was thinking on right now was a bit much.

“Guess you’ll have to find something else for my mouth to do,” River said with an impish smile.

“Guess I will at that,” Mal said, and bent down to kiss her again.

She opened her mouth under his and he moaned deep in his throat, because _gorramit_ , it felt like the best thing in the ‘verse. And he knew, way in the back of his mind, that he shouldn’t be doing this, but somewhere along the line he had really truly given up caring.

“Leap of faith,” River gasped when they finally came up for air.

“That what this is, little one?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “I rather thought it was th’ no-good captain of a two-bit smugglin’ ship takin’ advantage a’ his sweet young pilot.”

“Wife has a right to be with her husband,” River said. “And all of us have a right to seek happiness where we can. We’re stepping off the cliff and hoping that we will grow wings, Mal. Nothing to lose.”

“Guess we are at that,” Mal said, thinking of their cockamamie plan.

With the odds they were taking on, it was true, they really didn’t have a whole lot left to lose. And they _were_ married, properly too, in a church and everything.

_I’m not saying that you should force yourself on the girl, Mal, I’m simply saying that you should trust her to know what she wants… and when she decides to take it, remember that sexual union between consenting— and married— adults is not, generally speaking, a sin._

He lifted his little psychic genius assassin wife up and settled them both back into the pilot’s chair, with her straddling his hips. River laughed, a carefree, giddy sound that made him feel suddenly light as air, and grinned down at him. He smiled back at her, reaching up to push a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear before burying his hand in the silky stuff and pulling her down to kiss him again. She pressed her hands against his chest and kissed him back like there was nothing else she’s rather do in the ‘verse, which, he noted, was more than enough to a man feel like a king, no shiny hat needed.

He reached down with his free hand and found the smooth bare skin of her leg. Mal had always had sort of a holistic approach to admiring female beauty— after all, all the separate parts went to make up the same living, breathing girl, didn’t they?— but he had to admit that River’s legs were exceptional. They were a kind of fascinating contradiction, delicate and strong, graceful and deadly, a dancer’s tools and a killer’s weapons. What man with a gorram pulse could resist that kind of combination?

Still kissing her, he ran his hand up the silky smooth skin of her thigh, pushing up the hem of her dress as he did so. She made a beautiful little moaning sound and his grip on her tightened. Dear God, that was sexier than hell.

Having her body beneath her hands was, itself, something of a study in crazy contradictions. On the one hand, it was all so brand new and shiny that it was nearly enough to make a man think he’d found a new paradise, but on the other, it was so achingly familiar that it was almost like coming home. After all, this was River. If little Kaylee was  _ Serenity’s  _ heart, River was her soul. She was almost as much a part of him as the ship was.

They soon got to the point where kissing and touching wasn’t near enough for either of them. River made the necessary logistical adjustments with small, deft fingers while Mal, recalling Jayne’s admonition, reached between them to ease her into things. She gasped and bit her lip when his fingers slid into her, then leaned down to kiss him urgently, moaning her impossibly quick release into his mouth. When she felt ready, he shifted her and, meeting her eyes, slid into her tight, wet heat. She whimpered and he groaned because,  damn she felt good and those noises of hers were just about the sexiest thing in the ‘verse.

He held her gaze as they made love, watched every flare of pleasure and every sparkle of happiness. And, when the ecstasy rose up and overwhelmed her, he watched it flood through her like a wave. When he found his own peak, he kept looking at her, and he thought he might be drowning in the darkness of her eyes.

After they’d cleaned up a little and resituated their clothing, he pulled her back into his lap and held her there, listening to her breathe, smelling the scent of her skin, and letting his mind drift. At first, he thought on pleasant things: how good holding River felt, how easy being with her was compared to the pure vexation that was his previous experience of male-female relations, and how ironic it was that the most complicated person he had ever met could make everything so much simpler. Then a stray thought concerning Inara and her million and one Companiony rules had him tensing up and making a strangled sound.

“ _Jiéshù yǔzhòu_!” [3] he yelped.

River jumped and looked up at him in confusion, clearly disoriented by the abrupt shift in mood.

“River, honey, I’m so sorry!” Mal said in a rush. “I don’t know where my head was at! I’m supposed t’ be lookin’ out for you and here I plum forgot one a’ th’ most basic rules a man can follow about takin’ care a’ his girl. Darlin’, I ain’t got no idea when I got innoced last.”

A horrific image of a heavily pregnant River in the middle of a firefight overtook Mal’s imagination, causing him to feel equal parts panic and nausea. He had no idea if he wanted children in the first place or if River could even safely have them if he did, but he knew beyond doubt that her getting pregnant now would be a disaster of epic proportions. That was why he had been so set on Jayne reupping his innocs on Circe, even though he knew that the mercenary was always careful about keeping up with his injections.

Blinking rapidly at the sudden flood of auditory and mental input, River cocked her head to one side.

“Not sure,” she said. “Not in my remembrance. Before the extra parts were removed and the clouds cleared and I was able to see with my eyes and hear with my ears.”

“Before Miranda?” Mal said. “ _Wúxiàn de gǒu shǐ_! [4] That was a long-ass time ago. Those things only last two years, tops!”

“Nineteen months of 100% effectiveness,” River said. “An additional four to seven months is usual, but not guaranteed.”

“ _Tā mā de tā mā de tā mā de tā mā de_ ,”[5] Mal babbled, succumbing to abject panic.             “Mal,” River said, grabbing his face and forcing him to meet her eyes. “Mal! Two people going into space don’t need two spaceships to protect them from the black.”

“Huh?” Mal said, still preoccupied with the catastrophic possibilities that River maybe being pregnant opened up.

“I have a spaceship,” River said reassuringly.

“Who cares that we’re in space?” Mal said, his voice distressingly high. “It’s me bein’ a _tā mā de_ selfish _dànǎo de shǐ_ [6] and maybe knockin’ you up that I’m carin’ about at th’ moment!”

“Mal!” River snapped, glaring at him. “Listen with your ears! Doesn’t matter that you don’t have a spaceship, I have one! We’re safe, black can’t get in.”

She grimaced with frustration, clearly annoyed that she couldn’t just say whatever the hell she meant. But Mal managed to get ahold of himself enough to at least piece together that she was trying to tell him something important. He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus— and _not_ on all of the ways that River and their unborn child could end up dead or worse.

Okay, two people, one spaceship. A spaceship that protected them both from the black. Sharing a spaceship, sharing protection. Sharing protection that she had, but he didn’t…

Suddenly, Mal felt very foolish indeed.

“Ah,” he said sheepishly. “You already took care a’ that, didn’t you? Back on Circe, you got innoced same time as Jayne.”

And there had been all manner of fuss about it, too. She’d ended up passed out on the couch in the common area with Jayne pacing in front of her like some sort of demented mama bear. How the hell could he have forgotten that?

So alright, it didn’t matter that his innocs weren't up-to-date, because _hers_ were. It was all taken care of. Fine. Dandy.

 _Shén zài tiāntáng_ ,[7] he was an idiot.

River rolled her eyes.

“Takes so much looking after,” she said fondly.

“Sorry,” he said, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Don’t know where my head was at.”

“Just because the monster coming out from under the child’s bed turns out to be the shadow of a toy, doesn’t mean the father’s defense is not valiant,” River said, snuggling back into his arms.

“Here now!” Mal said. “I ain’t your father, River. And if you think on me that way…”

He swallowed, feeling queasy again. It wasn’t the first time she had referred to him as ‘father’ or ‘daddy.’ He hadn’t paid it much mind before, but now… if she thought of him as some kind of father figure, well, that was all sorts of wrong in all sorts of ways.

“Do not blame the camera for the photograph,” River said, shrugging. “I did not make the ‘verse that calls all rulers fathers, I simply put it into pixels. God the father, father of the nation, father of his troops— parallels of patriarchy. Captain takes care of his crew, father takes care of his family. Their word is law, no _ruttin’ town hall_ in their abode. ”

Okay, when she put it that, it sort of made sense. He always had thought of his crew as family— a messed up, dysfunctional family, but family nonetheless. And he was the captain of this damned boat, no matter how much his crew might question him at times, so he gave the orders and took the responsibility, which was a fatherly thing to do— not that he would know that firsthand, since he’d never known his own pa. So maybe it wasn’t all that creepy that River sometimes called him ‘father,’ even though at first glance it seemed all sorts of wrong.

Damn, he’d overreacted again. That was twice in two minutes, that must be some sort of record.

“Little boy learning to spell,” River said. “Used to making mistakes, can’t believe he finally wrote the word right. Keeps imagining errors.”

Mal cocked his head. Yeah, he got that. He’d been up here in the first place because he was feeling powerfully guilty about _not_ feeling guilty, so it wasn’t really any wonder that he was going off half-cocked at the first sign of anything _else_ he ought to feel guilty about.

River kissed him lightly on the mouth.

“Caring mind is like the old zed-aught tractor,” she said, conjuring up an image in Mal’s head of the ancient tractor on his Ma’s ranch that always seemed to get the job done even though it was held together primarily by wire and cussing. “Best in the ‘verse, even when it needs fixing all the time.”

She laid her head back on his shoulder and gave a little sigh.

“Sorry, little one,” Mal said. “I’ll try t’ be a little less high maintenance from now on.”

Not the he held out much hope for that. He’d always been a contrary son-of-gun, he didn’t see how a reader wife, a poly-whatsit marriage, or even really _tā mā de_ good sex would change that.

Well, the last one might. After all, even considering his two back-to-back panic attacks, he felt far less twisted up in his own head right now than he had for a coon’s age.

 

***

 

Jayne still couldn’t quite believe that they were going to see Badger again after all the stuff he’d tried to pull on them over the years. Not that he disagreed with Mal and River on the necessity of it, if Badger was suddenly acting all chummy towards the crew of _Serenity_ , it indicated a glitch in the natural order, a glitch that needed to be seen to before it got them into a world trouble. Still, walking the familiar route to Badger’s warehouse gave Jayne a powerful uncomfortableness that no amount of guns— and he had brought an impressive array, mostly to make himself feel better— could alleviate.

“Now remember,” Mal was saying, ducking under someone’s washing as they maneuvered through the narrow back streets, “We’re just going to let River get a little look-see. No undue fuss or violence, just a quiet bit a’ Readin’. If he means us no harm, we talk terms. If not, we walk away. Easy peasy.”

Jayne felt compelled to point out that things were rarely “easy peasy” for them, especially where Badger was concerned.

“Mal, since when has Badger ever been keen on lettin’ us walk away?” he asked as they turned a corner. “He hauled us in at gunpoint for that cattle job.”

“Emperors on Earth-that-was did not allow their subjects to turn their backs on them,” River remarked. “Had to back away from the throne, genuflecting as they went.”

“Badger ain’t no Emperor,” Mal growled, “And I don’t bow my neck t’ no one. But my point is, we’re not here t’ make trouble. Just gatherin’ information.”

Jayne shook his head.

“Baby girl,” he said to River, ignoring Mal, “If things look t’ be goin’ south, shoot ‘em all. God can sort ‘em out when we’re safely out a’ range.”

River nodded and flashed Jayne a half smile. She was looking uncharacteristically dangerous today (which meant that she was looking about 2% as dangerous as she actually was). She had her hair pulled back into a tight braid and was wearing the tinted glasses, so when she looked at you you couldn’t see her eyes, just blue glass. She had on black cargo pants that were just a bit too big for her and a loose white shirt, and over that she was carrying a thigh holster with one of Jayne’s smaller guns in it and an artillery belt filled with ammo and knives— River was purely deadly with a knife. She didn’t have the same kind of presence as Zoe or any of the female mercs Jayne had dealt with over the years, but she looked like she could take care of herself.

“Rank insubordination, I tell you,” Mal said. “My ship is filled with rabble-rousers and would-be mutineers.”

“‘Independent soldiers,’” River said thoughtfully. “All in the name really. Contradiction in terms. Independence and orders don’t mix well.”

Jayne burst out laughing at the glare Mal shot their irrepressible little Reader, and was still chuckling to himself when they arrived at Badger’s warehouse.

Badger’s security personnel had changed since they’d visited last— no surprise, Badger wasn’t like Mal, he couldn’t keep people around when a better offer came along— but his office looked pretty much the same, still all drapey frou frou and mismatched furniture. He’d swapped out his leather chair for one upholstered in swanky red velvet and he had some new gadgets on the table, but overall, everything was where it was supposed to be.

Badger himself hadn’t changed much either. He was still wearing the same slightly greasy suit with the same sorry-ass excuse for a neckcloth and he still had his very fine hat perched on his smirking head. But Jayne thought there was something different about him, something to do with the eyes. Badger’s eyes had always been hard and sharp, with a little glint in them that showed he knew how much he was pissing you off and thought it was hilarious. Badger’s eyes were still hard and sharp, but the glint was gone, and Jayne was disturbed to see how much he resembled Mal on a bad day now, all cynical and weary with a ‘mess-with-me-and-die’ edge to him.

He stood up to greet them, smiling an insincere smile that didn’t even begin to hide the calculation.

“Malcolm,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “Welcome back to my ‘umble abode.”

“Badger,” Mal said, nodding briefly, his voice clipped.

“What’s this?” Badger said, turning his gaze from Mal to River and Jayne, “Where’sZoe? Don’t tell me she’s finally decided she’s ‘ad enough a’ followin’ you around, Mal. I thought she’d be standin’ at your elbow ‘til Judgment Day.”

Jayne tensed, wondering if Mal was going to hold it together or blow right then and there.

“Zoe’s elsewise engaged today,” Mal said his voice dead calm.

Badger didn’t know Mal well enough to realize that it was his ‘you-just-earned-yourself-a-ticket-to-hell-but-I-ain’t-gonna-punch-it-today-’cause-you-just-ain’t-worth-it’ calm voice and not his ‘I-don’t-like-you-but-I’m-gonna-play-nice-because-we-need-the-money’ calm voice, which was, Jayne thought, all to the good. Still, Jayne rested one hand on the butt of his Si Zu, just in case.

“Shame,” Badger said. “Always did like that gal. But what’s this? New face? Bit on the young side for your kind of work, ain’t she?”

Jayne was suddenly very glad that all of them were wearing fingerless gloves, which concealed their wedding bands from certain sharp, beady eyes. He suspected that Mal really would lose it if Badger started to get smart about their domestic arrangements. As it was, Badger’s chances of making out of this little chin-wag without serious bodily harm were diminishing by the second.

River regarded Badger contemptuously from behind her tinted glasses for a moment, then gave a dismissive toss of her head.

“Not really,” she said in a Dyton accent to rival Badger’s own. “Woulda thought you of all people’d know it’s best to start young.”

Mal started. He hadn't been there when River and Badger had had their creepy little interlude on _Serenity,_ back when she first came on board, so he had never heard her Badger-handling voice.

Badger frowned.

“‘Ere,” he said, “Do I know you?”

“We ain’t been to no volcano’s edge, love,”[8] River said.

Badger looked a little taken aback at her cryptic response, but continued studying her. Suddenly, recognition dawned on his face.

“I remember now!” he said. “The little girl on Mal’s boat, the one with a secret. My, ‘aven’t you grown up! But I thought you was a passenger, love?”

River shrugged.

“Things change,” she said. “Like you. Still the sad little king of a sad little ‘ill, but not so many delusions now, eh? Finally met something that showed you exactly where you stand.”

Mal and Jayne were exchanging looks, wordlessly communicating their mutual misgivings about this situation, but were reluctant to intervene.

Badger’s face was a study. There was anger there, and malice, but also something that looked like misery.

“And what gives you get that impression?” he asked dangerously.

“And I looked, and be’old, a pale ‘orse! And its rider’s name was Death, and ‘Ades followed ‘im,” River said, her voice soft and measured, though still thickly accented. “And they were given authority over a fourth of the earth, t’ kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence.”[9]

“What the ‘ell!” Badger spat.

He seized River’s face in one hand forcing her head up. Mal and Jayne both growled and reached for their weapons, but River held one hand up, stopping them.

“What d’you know, girl?” Badger snarled.

“‘At’s not important,” River said. “What’s important is, Plague can still be turned back, sent ‘ome without his prize.”

All the blood drained out of Badger’s face, leaving him an unhealthy grayish color. His grip on River’s jaw slackened and she stepped back.

“What—” he croaked out, his hand falling limply to his side, “What did you say?”

River strolled over to Badger’s cluttered desk and rummaged around, coming up with a pen and a scrap of paper. She wrote a few words the paper, then set the pen down and handed the scrap to Badger.

“Your man gave you th’ wrong description of it what’s stealin’ from you,” she said. “Can send out all the bully-boys you like, but they won’t find nothin’ if they don’t know what they’re lookin’ for.”

Badger stood stalk still, staring at the paper in his hand. Mal and Jayne exchanged more worried looks, both wondering if it was time to fight, or time to run. Finally, Badger looked back up at River.

“This is it?” he asked, his voice ragged. “I find someone who can treat this, she gets better?”

River shrugged.

“I ain’t no oracle, love,” she said. “I don’t tell fortunes.”

Badger closed his eyes and for one awful moment, Jayne thought he was going to cry. But he pulled himself together, stuffed the paper into his pocket, and looked at River with a troubled eye.

“You may not be an oracle,” he said, his voice still hoarse, “But I think you may be a gorram witch.”

“Their witch,” River said, nodding towards Mal and Jayne. “There, that’s one of my secrets for you. And it’s also why you brought us ‘ere, ain’t it? To find out what Nico Anipoulos saw when ‘e met with Malcolm Reynolds’s crew that made ‘im lose his mind? Y’ see, secrets is dangerous things. I saw ‘is too, ‘cept they weren’t sweet and pretty like yours. They was dark and ugly and when I pulled them out, they drove ‘im mad.”

Badger swallowed nervously.

“Don’t suppose you’re lookin’ for a job, love?” he asked, the lightness of his voice only slightly marred by fear.

River gave him that look she did so well, the ‘you’re-too-dumb-to-find-your-own- _yīnjīng_ [10]-with-a-map-and-a-compass’ look.

“Why would I want to come down t’ your pitiful ‘ill when I’ve got the the run a’ the ‘ole sky?” she said. “Don’t think so, love. Still, we can do business. And you can tell all your associates that you’re on terms with th’ man who took down Nico Anipoulos’s ‘ole operation with a word and a look.”

Mal still looked kind of poleaxed, but he was smart enough to recognize an opportunity when he saw one. He stepped forward, hand on his gun belt, and did that thing where he kind of towered over Badger— Jayne had always wondered if that wasn’t part of the reason Badger had such a bug up his _pìgu_ when it came to the captain. Right now, however, Badger seemed too distracted by… whatever it was River had done to him to get bent out of shape about it.

“So,” Mal said with a not-really-a-smile, “What say we talk business?”

 

***

 

 _A girl lying in a bed. White nightgown, white sheets, red hair spread out around her like a pool of fire. Can almost see through her skin, it’s so waxy and pale, blue veins clearly visible on her closed eyelids. He sits beside her, and they let him, even though a petty thief like him wouldn’t normally be allowed anywhere near a girl like her. But it’s his money that’s keeping a roof over their heads, his money that’s putting food in their mouths, his money that’s paying for the doctor. There’s really only one thing his money_ isn't _doing around here, but it’s the most important thing: it isn't stopping death._

_A girl…_

“Now, Mal, I may be a generous man, but I ain’t made o’ money. 12% of the overall profits I said. If I meant net, I would o’ specified, wouldn’t I?”

“Can’t blame a man for tryin’.”

River started and shook her head, trying to clear it. The memories were so vivid and full of emotion, she couldn’t resist them. Even while the sad king in the bowler hat talked percentages, his memories tugged her mind, pulling her into the current. Sadness, yearning, anger, confusion. So many feelings hidden behind the tawdry suit and the cheap smile.

_… walking down the stairs. Green dressing gown, green shawl, red hair loose around her shoulders even though it’s only four in the afternoon. Suddenly a fit of coughing seizes her and she loses her balance. With a startled, ‘Sweet Jesus,” he lunges for her, catching her before she hits the marble floor of the entrance hall. She clutches his arms, still coughing uncontrollably, and he steadies her as best he can. It’s the first time he’s ever touched her, and he can’t help but savor the moment, knowing it will probably never happen again._

_A girl…_

“Can’t believe you’re still running that _pòliè de huàshí_ [11] of a Firefly.”

“Be glad we’re still runnin’ that ‘decrepit fossil’ of a Firefly or you’d be lookin’ at a maintenance bill three times th’ size.”

 _… sitting in a window seat, knees drawn up, looking out at the rain. Grey dress, grey rain, red hair like a sunset. Looks up when she hears his step and stares at him with huge black eyes. First time he’s ever had a chance to talk with her, but he doesn’t know what to say. ‘You’re Papa’s man at the docks, aren’t you?’ she says. ‘Do you know any pirates? Mama says that the Eavesdown Docks are simply crawling with them, but Papa says that’s nonsense.’ He finds himself grinning. She doesn’t know what he really is to her father, that her father is actually_ his _man, that he owns him lock stock and fat round barrel, and that she still lives in this house because, after that_ shānquè hé wěibā[12] _business with Sir Warwick Harrow, he needs his own respectable gentleman to mix with the high falutin’ nose lookers. He’s not going to be the one to tell her. Instead, he says, ‘I’ve met one or two, love.’_

_A girl…_

“This time, try to avoid flashin’ your ass at the gorram law, eh?”

“I’ll try, but ain’t you th’ one as said th’ situation’s always ‘fluid’? I make no promises”

_… walking in a garden. Red hair like a river of autumn down her back, elegant green dress, a white flower tucked behind her ear. He’s standing at the window of an office in a fancy house in the Whittiers, waiting with gleeful anticipation for the ponce who owns the place to admit he can’t pay what he owes, but in that moment, he forgets why he’s there. Sod it, he very nearly forgets his own name. She’d never look at him twice, of course, but that doesn’t stop him from falling in love._

_A girl…_

“I got a buyer for the foodstuffs, but the equipment’s up for bid.”

“See, this is why you need me, Mal. Any _yǎ tùzǐ_ [13] can dispose of a crate of protein, but specialty goods… well, that’s a job for a professional, ain’t it?”

_… lying in a bed. White nightgown, white sheets, red hair, but her skin is gray and her dark eyes are open, staring sightlessly at the canopy of the bed. Her chest beneath the white counterpane is absolutely still._

_A girl…_

“You sure about your source? Wouldn’t be the first time someone sold false coordinates for a few coppers and a chicken song.”

“You let me worry about my source. You worry about findin’ us a buyer.”

_… lying in a bed. White nightgown, white sheets, red hair, but her skin has a bit of color to it and her breathing is deep and even. He reaches out and brushes the backs of his fingers across the pale pink of her cheek and her dark eyes flutter open. He starts to draw his hand back, but she catches it before he can, turning her face into it and pressing his palm against her satin smooth skin._

_‘Even if the gorram witch is right, that could never ‘appen.’ ‘Could make it ‘appen. I still own every gorram thing her family has in th’ ‘verse.’ ‘Can’t do that. Ain’t honorable.’ ‘I ain’t honorable.’ ‘She deserves to be treated honorably.’ ‘Well then, I guess I ain’t th’ man for ‘er, am I?’_

“A pleasure doin’ business with you, Badger.”

River blinked hard and took a deep breath.

“Jayne, how do you make working girls like being with you?”

 

***

 

Mal couldn’t decide which was worse: the look of abject horror on Jayne’s face in the wake of River’s question, or the look of avid interest on Badger’s.

He cleared his throat.

“Is this important, Albatross?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t.

River ignored him, keeping her face tilted towards Jayne, who was opening and closing his mouth like a bass fresh out of the water.

“Why th’ hell would you wanna know a thing like that, girl?” Jayne finally managed to get out. “And why now of all ruttin’ times?”

“A painted lady’s heart fluttering for a John; as unlikely as a fair lady’s heart fluttering for a king of thieves,” River said. “More so. Painted ladies’ hearts are hardened by a cruel world, don’t flutter as easily.”

She wasn’t speaking in Badger’s accent anymore, thank God, but as blessings went, that one seemed pretty gorram small right now.

Mal sighed.

“Answer th’ woman, Jayne, so we can be about our day,” he growled.

He had a sneaking suspicion they wouldn’t be getting out of here until she got whatever it was she was after.

Jane shot him a look of utter betrayal, then turned back to River, shrugging awkwardly.

“It’s pretty simple,” he mumbled, embarrassed. “Wash up so’s they don’t have t’ worry about catchin’ somethin’ when they touch you. Treat ‘em like they’re real people who’s got things t’ say besides dirty talk. And, uh, make sure they… um… _feels good_ before you do.”

Mal gaped as his big, tough mercenary dispensed these pearls of wisdom concerning the human heart, and thought weakly that he had been seriously underestimating the man all these years. River, meanwhile, had turned to Badger.

“There you ‘ave it, love” she said, slipping seamlessly back into that damned Dyton accent. “Cleanliness, respect, and consideration: the keys t’ wooing th’ most ‘ard-’earted of ladies. Can’t promise you a winning ticket, but I can ‘elp you tip the odds.”

And with that, she turned and moved gracefully towards the door. Mal pulled himself together and turned to their host, who was blinking after her like he’d been drugged.

“Badger,” Mal said, nodding briefly.

Then he turned and followed River as quickly as he could, eager to get out of there before this day got any freakier.

“What the _yǒngyuǎn ài dì dìyù_ ,[14] girl?” Jayne roared as soon as they were outside. “What’d you go askin’ me a thing like that for?”

“Even petty kings deserve a chance to win the fair lady’s hand,” River murmured.

“What th’ _dà xiàng dǎnliàng_ [15] is that s’posed to mean?” Jayne snarled.

Mal, however, thought he had worked out what River was trying to say, although he was having a hard time believing it.

“Are you tellin’ me,” he said incredulously, “That you was havin’ Jayne give Badger advice on how t’ court a girl?”

“ _Tā mā de huī yā_!” [16] Jayne yelped. “That just ain’t right!”

“Why would you go and do a thing like that?” Mal asked. “What’d th’ poor thing ever do t’ you, that you’d wish Badger on her?”

River shook her head, looking slightly harried. Mal imagined that both his and Jayne’s minds were probably a little unsteady just now.

“Sleeping Beauty,” she muttered, “Only the kiss didn’t wake her. Wizard told the prince the curse was too strong, but he was wrong; not the curse he thought, a kiss won’t break it. Need a different medicine. May wake up if she gets it. But she doesn’t know that the prince loves her, was never told, and if she wakes up, he must risk everything or lose her forever.”

“I didn’t get a ruttin’ word a’ that,” Jayne said.

“This girl,” Mal said slowly, sifting through River’s retelling of the fairy tale, “She’s sick?”

“Prince has been caring for her,” River said, nodding.

“Okay,” Mal said, “She’s sick and Badger’s lookin’ after her. But… th’ medicine ain’t workin’?”

“Kiss is for the wrong curse,” River said, nodding.

“Uh… wrong curse,” Mal said. “Wrong medicine?”

“No, wrong ailment, dumbass,” Jayne said. “Weren’t you listenin’ t’ th’ story? So, is that what you gave Badger? You write down what’s really ailin’ his girl?”

River nodded.

“How’d you even know that?” Jayne said. “Even Readin’ him… how’d you know she didn’t have what he thought?”

River shook her head, looking agitated.

“Chaos,” she said. “Too much, too fast, can’t stop and look. Rushing through my head like a river. River, river…” She stopped in the middle of the street, covered her face with her hand, and took a deep breath. “Dry eyes,” she said. “Didn’t fit.”

“Hey, hey little one,” Mal said, worried by how jumpy River was getting, “It’s alright, it don’t matter how you knew. Sounds like you done a good thing, tellin’ Badger how t’ fix her. Even if she will have t’ deal with that greasy _lǎoshǔ de pìgu_ [17] moonin’ on her when she wakes up.”

River gave him a shaky smile.

“Jayne told him to wash,” she said.

Mal stared at her for a moment, then realized what she’d said and started laughing fit to choke. Jayne caught on a second after he did and actually had to lean against a wall, he was laughing so hard. River relaxed and, when they had recovered a bit, proceeded to give both of them a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Right,” Mal said, “Now that we’ve finished discussin’ th’ perturbin’ notion a’ Badger goin’ courtin’, what say we go find us a backup pilot?”

 

***

 

After their uncanny war council on Santos, Mal and River had posted two notices on the Persephone nets. The first had been the one Badger had responded to, looking for a backer to finance the salvage operation that River had schemed up. The second had been a job listing for a backup pilot.

Mal was not altogether easy in his mind about getting a new pilot, though he had to own that River was right about the need for it. They’d been skating by thus far on the fact that none of the jobs they were doing were outright criminal, so making a quick getaway was not an absolute necessity, but for the work they had ahead of them, that wasn’t going to fly. They needed someone who could stay on _Serenity_ while they were out on a heist, keep her warmed up so they could skip town at a moment’s notice— or make an unexpected rendezvous, like the infamous Lilac Barn Swallow. They couldn’t very well afford to leave one of them behind, three people was way too few to pull a job as it was, so they needed another body. But bringing a stranger on board at this juncture presented all sorts of complications, even leaving aside the fact that he wasn’t sure how they were going to pay them. The crew of _Serenity_ was, after all, a gang of crooks. They did crime, and they were fixing to engage in what amounted to high treason. A certain amount of trust was necessary when a people engaged in those sorts of unlawful endeavors together, and involving someone they had never met in their little operation rubbed Mal the wrong way.

Not to mention, he had no idea how they were going to explain River to a newcomer. ‘ _This is River. She was experimented on by the Alliance t’ make her th’ perfect assassin, but she escaped and were a wanted fugitive until she kicked the Alliance in th’ balls by findin’ th’ Miranda Wave and killed a boatload a’ Reavers int’ the bargain. Now she’s married t’ us two_ chǔn dàns[18] _and is mastermindin’ a prison break. She talks_ fēng le _, can shoot five men without even lookin’, and reads minds. Don’t worry though, she’ll only hurt you if you deserve it. Or if she’s havin’ a bad day. Or if she don’t like your taste in t-shirts._

Zoe came to mind, as she often did in these situations, saying, _Oh yeah. This is going to be fun_.

They’d set up the meetings in a bar, of course. It was practically a law of nature that dubious characters such as themselves conducted their affairs in seedy dives in seedier neighborhoods that catered to a seedy and mostly criminal clientele. The ‘verse would probably have collapsed if they did business any other way. The bar they had chosen was particularly disreputable by virtue of the fact that it shared premises with a chop shop where skimjackers and the like brought their stolen goods to be stripped down for parts. They’d originally come across the place buying parts for their old mule, the one they’d totalled breaking into Niska’s skyplex, and they— or, more properly, Kaylee— had struck up a kind of rapport with mother and two sons who ran it, so Mal had been able to arrange to meet would-be pilots in one of the back rooms.

They settled themselves around the grubby table, Jayne and River sharing the bench against the wall, Mal in the chair facing the door, and Sal brought them three glasses of the house bourbon. Jayne took a cautious sip, then shrugged.

“Won’t win any awards, but it won’t make ya blind,” he said, tossing back the rest in one gulp.

River picked hers up and leaned back in the bench seat beside Jayne, but didn’t drink. Instead, she toyed with the glass, spinning it rapidly in her fingers without spilling a drop. Mal took a sip from his own glass and settled in to watch the door for the first prospective pilot.

They had a system all worked out. Mal would do the talking, Jayne would look scary, but not too scary, and River would give Mal a subtle ‘yes’ or ‘no’ sign depending on what she picked up. The first two candidates were almost immediate ‘nos’— Mal didn’t really even need River to tell him that the skinny guy with the runny nose was a crash-head or that the big fellow with the shifty eyes was not to be trusted, even amongst thieves. Given that what they were chiefly offering was low-profile employment and a free pass on references, not upfront cashy money, it wasn’t surprising that they were getting the dregs of the barrel, but it didn’t exactly make Mal feel optimistic.

The third prospect seemed a bit more promising. It was a young woman, mid-twenties maybe, with blonde hair chopped short and uneven and tattoos down both of her bare arms. She was wearing cargo pants and a black tank top, pretty standard get-up in these parts, but she wasn’t armed, indicating either that she wasn’t really a criminal or that she hadn’t been one very long. She entered the room cautiously, her wide mouth and flexible eyebrows set in an attitude of deep mistrust. Her eyes went warily from him to Jayne, widening a little when she saw the mercenary’s extensive artillery and unfriendly scowl. She approached the chair and sat down slowly, folding her arms across her chest.

River studied her intently, twirling her glass around and around, but didn’t indicate anything, so Mal put on his best folksy smile.

“Hello there,” he said. “My name’s Malcolm Reynolds. I’m th’ captain a’ _Serenity_ and this here’s my crew— this is Jayne, and that’s River. Now, what might your name be?”

“Brass,” the young woman said, the tilt of her chin daring Mal to contradict her, even though it was obvious that wasn’t her real name. Who, after all, would name their kid that?

“Nice t’ meet you, Brass,” Mal said without turning a hair. “So, what brings you here this fine day?”

The woman raised her eyebrows in a ‘really?’ expression.

“I need a job,” she said, her tone clearly indicating the ‘duh’ she would have liked to tack on the end of that sentence.

Mal figured then that he’d been right about her lack of criminal background. Someone who had been in the business a while would have known what he was really asking: ‘Why do you find this particular offer enticin’ and will the answer make me wanna hire you or shoot you?’

“And we need a pilot,” Mal said, nodding and giving her an easy smile. “So far, we understand each other. However, while it ain’t my habit t’ go pokin’ my nose int’ other people’s affairs, we ain’t offerin’ much and we don’t spend a lot a’ time dirtside. That don’t appeal t’ everyone, so I’d be obliged if you could give me some notion a’ why you’re interested in this particular job.”

“Brass” narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, shrugging her shoulders in an uncomfortable manner.

“Your post was the only one I’d seen that didn’t ask for references,” she said sullenly. “I don’t have a lot of work experience.”

 _Uhoh,_ Mal thought upon hearing her explanation. _I knew she was new t’ the business a’ wrongdoin’, but I thought she at least understood we was_ in _th’ business_. _Does she even realize that what we do ain’t legit?_

He glanced at River, knowing that she was reading him and would have heard his mental question. She cocked her head, ‘listening.’

“Does, but does not,” she said.

Brass’s eyes jumped to River and she frowned hard, clearly confused by the girl’s words, and, Mal would wager, by her appearance. Even armed to the teeth and holding a glass of rotgut, River looked too young and dainty to be hanging out with rough characters like him and Jayne.

“Well then,” Mal said, turning back to Brass, “Allow me to explain what it is we’re needin’ and you can tell me whether that’s somethin’ you could see your way t’ providin’ for us. We’re a freelance cargo ship, do all manner a’ odd jobs. We’ve got ourselves a passel a’ work comin’ up, but we’re a bit short-handed. River an’ I can both fly th’ ship, but we’ve got other responsibilities that demand our attention, so we need a dedicated cockpit-minder while we’re workin’.”

Brass blinked stupidly at him, then shook herself and nodded.

“Uh… okay,” she said.

“You got any trainin’ flyin’ defensive?” Mal asked. “Lotsa unfriendly folk out in th’ black, sometimes we’ve gotta extricate ourselves from a precarious situation in a hurry.”

The woman stiffened.

“Look, I trained as an Air Guard pilot, okay?” she said, clearly ticked off that he was questioning her abilities. “I just… didn’t end up going into the Guard.”

Interesting. A washout guard dog pilot. Mal had done his best to avoid planetary air security, but he’d seen them in action a time or two. He didn’t know much about Persephone’s guard corps, but he understood the business well enough to know that this woman had been trained to fly fast and in close quarters, that she was used to being in planetary gravity. She wouldn’t have much, if any, experience flying in the black. But, then, that wasn’t where they’d need her.

Of course, there was the question of what had caused her to wash out in the first place and whether it was something he needed to worry about.

Mal looked at River again.

 _Anythin’ about her time in th’ Air Guard flight academy as would give me an uncomfortableness?_ he asked mentally.

River frowned, wrinkling her nose in a way that was all kinds of adorable— not that Mal would ever say so.

“Weak convergence,” she said. “Not enough data points.”

Mal took this to mean that River wasn’t sure. Well, that was not as encouraging as he would like, but on the other hand, they were not exactly in the best bargaining position her, and the would-be guard dog was the best option they’d had so far.

Brass’s eyebrows— girl should never play tall card, not with those things giving away everything as went on in her head— indicated that River was starting to damage her calm.

Mal offered her another sunny smile.

“Shiny,” he said. “Now, I got a few rules. No drinkin’ on th’ job— off th’ job’s fine, just not when we’re lookin’ at bein’ in the air. No workin’ on the side ‘less you run it by me first. And most important, no double dealin’. You turn on me or mine in any way, you won’t see th’ next port. _Dong ma_?”

Brass jumped at his abrupt question, the preceding threat, but lifted her chin again. Mal frowned, recognizing the look. It was the look of a teenager who was scared shitless, but was bound and determined to prove they weren’t.

“ _Lǐjiě,_ ”[19] she said, sounding far too sulky and obstinate for Mal’s tastes.

He looked a River again, but she shrugged.

“Poor mendicants,” she said.

It took him a minute to remember what “mendicant” meant, but when he did, he knew she was telling him that beggars couldn’t be choosers. This might be as good as it was going to get.

Great. Just great.

“Alrighty then,” he said. “Well, looks like th’ job’s yours, iff’n you want it. We’re in th’ sky at 0900 hours tomorrow mornin’, so if you’s aimin’ t’ sail with us, you’ve got ‘til then t’ settle your affairs planetside. Don’t know when we’ll be back this way.”

The woman’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but she got a hold of herself quickly and managed an expression that was approximating on grateful.

“Thank you, Mr. Reynolds,” she said.

Jayne snorted and River gave a dry chuckle. Mal sighed.

“It’s Captain,” he said, holding out his hand to his new backup pilot. “Welcome t’ th’ crew.”

 

 

[1] From Milton’s _Paradise Lost_ , 8.620-9

[2] Allusion to Charles Dickens’s _A Christmas Carol_.

[3] End the universe

[4] Infinite shit

[5] Loose English equivalent: fuckety fuck fuck fuck

[6] Shit-for-brains

[7] God in heaven

[8] Reference to the philosopher Shan Yu mentioned in _War Stories_.

[9] Revelations 6:8

[10] Penis

[11] Decrepit fossil

[12] Tits and tails

[13] Dumb bunny

[14] Ever-loving hell

[15] Elephant guts

[16] Fuck a grey duck

[17] Rat’s ass

[18] Dumb bastards

[19] Understood


	10. Chemistry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

Betsy “Brass” Strishka was freaking out.

Of course, if anyone said so aloud, she would call them a liar and threaten to kick their ass, but it was true all the same. When she had decided to get a pilot’s job out of Eavesdown, she had thought she could handle anything the infamous Eavesdown Docks could spit at her. But then she found herself in the sketchiest bar ever, talking to a guy who looked like he’d stepped straight out of a cop vid (and not as one of the cops) and suddenly she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Brass had grown up rough. She had been born into a working-class family, had lost her parents young, and had been taken in by her uncle who knocked her around a fair bit and wasn’t above locking her out of the house for the night if he thought she deserved it. She’d run with a wild crowd in school: fights, minor misdemeanors, the occasional hit of crash or Z. When she’d tested into the Air Guard Academy, she’d used the tough, belligerent attitude she’d developed during her less-than-stellar adolescence to keep the guys from giving her any grief about the fact that she had a _yīndào_ [1] instead of a _yīnjīng._ [2] In general, she liked to think that she was a hard-assed _zi_ [3] who didn’t take _lā shǐ_ from anyone. But now, sitting on the bridge of this beat-up piece-of-junk Firefly with two big guys who looked like violence came naturally to them and a tiny girl who looked like a debutante, but was actually a certifiable whack job, she had to admit that she was in over her head.

So she did what she always did when she got scared. She got mouthy.

“So you’re telling me,” she said, letting scorn drip from every syllable, “That we’re going to find a derelict ship that’s drifting in the middle of nowhere to scavenge a few rusty parts?”

Malcolm Reynolds— _Captain_ Malcolm Reynolds, as he’d been so very quick to remind her— gave her a look that told her he was not amused. The big guy who was, hysterically, called Jayne— Brass was a tiny bit afraid of him, though she tried not to think about that fact— raised an eyebrow. River— the _fēng le_ deb— acted like she hadn’t heard. Which kind of pissed Brass off. What, did the kid think she was better than her just because she could say big words that made no sense in a Core accent?

“Spare parts’d be a bonus, yes,” Reynolds said, his voice all patient and cool, “But this here was a terraforming vessel, has all sorts of fancy equipment on board, not t’ mention foodstuffs and th’ like. Should fetch a decent price, we get it back t’ civilization.”

“You’d think she’d never heard a’ salvage before,” the big guy said, shaking his head and leaning against the back of the deb’s chair.

Brass was sitting in the pilot’s seat, having just demonstrated that she was capable of getting this bucket of bolts off the ground once she’d located all the necessary switches— half the damned console seemed to have been rewired and there was a whole extra panel that she didn’t even know what the hell it did yet. The Core girl was in the co-pilot’s seat, plotting a course to… well, the middle of nowhere, apparently.

Reynolds gave her a look which immediately set her teeth on edge. It almost looked like he was… _pitying_ her, which Brass did not appreciate at all.

“I’ve heard that idiots who pull salvage usually end up doing five to ten in the federal pen,” she snapped.

“That they do,” Reynolds said easily. “Which is why this job is gonna go quick and quiet. We do not wanna be attractin’ attention from the feds, nor anybody else neither.”

Brass swallowed discretely. Sure, she’d done some shoplifting, boosted a few bikes, even robbed a liquor store one time, but this… this was the big leagues.

“There’s ever a time we want t’ be attractin’ attention from th’ feds?” the big guy wanted to know.

“Can’t say as there is,” Reynolds replied. “How’s it comin’ over there, Albatross?”

“There is a reason it took 500 years for the human race to actually travel to another star system,” the girl said irritably. “Plans aren't girls at a dance, waiting for a boy to ask. If they were, they would already be taken.”

Jayne grinned at Reynolds.

“Guess she told you,” he said.

“Guess she did,” Reynolds agreed with a rueful quirk of his mouth. “Sorry darlin’. You carry on.”

“Okay, _what_ the _dìyù_ was that?” Brass demanded.

“She's sayin’ there’s a ruttin’ reason nobody's found this derelict, ‘fore now” Jayne said. “‘Cause figurin’ out where th’ hell it is gorram complicated.”

“And she can’t just _say_ that because…?” Brass asked.

Reynolds gave her a stern look.

“No reason you got t’ be worryin’ about,” he said, his voice hard. “Only two things you need to know about River. One, she’s th’ smartest person you’re ever like t’ meet. Two, if she tells you t’ do somethin’, you do it, no questions asked.”

Oh, _hell_ no. No way was Brass going to let some little Core girl who didn’t even talk right boss her around.

“And what if I don’t?” she asked, lifting her chin.

“Then we part ways on whatever planet happens t’ be nearest at the’ time,” Reynolds said.

Brass’s eyebrows rose. Reynolds had said it real calm, but it was clear he meant every word.

“What the actual _tā mā de_?” she blurted out in anger and disbelief.

“ _This ain’t a democracy,”_ River said, her accent inexplicably slipping from Core to Rim-world.

“That it ain’t,” Reynolds said. “My ship, my rules. You don’t like ‘em, you can go elsewhere.”

“The way you’re telling me to be her _zi_ , sounds like maybe it’s _her_ ship,” Brass said.

Reynolds gave her a weary look.

“Beginning t’ see why th’ guard dogs didn’t take t’ you,” he said. “Your mouth just doesn’t know when t’ quit, does it?”

“Brass,” River said, her voice flat. “Bold as.”

Brass’s jaw dropped. How did the kid know how she’d gotten her nickname?

“Seems so,” Reynolds said. “Jayne, now we’re off th’ ground, show our new crew member where she’ll be bunkin’ and give her th’ tour a’ th’ mess.”

“Aw, Mal, why do I got t’ babysit?” Jayne said.

“‘Cause I said so,” Reynolds said, his jaw tensing up.

“New puppy is chewing on his shoes,” River commented. “Wants you to take it away before he gets the urge to kick it.”

“I am _not_ a gorram dog!” Brass said, outraged.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jayne said. “Come on, ‘fore you make Mal so crotchety he starts lookin’ for someone t’ hit.”

Before Brass could say anything else, the big man was grabbing her arm and hauling her up out of the chair. She found herself obliged to follow him off the bridge or be dragged, and a sudden rush of fear swept through her. She really didn’t think she could take either of these guys in a fight, and they were on a ship, in space, with no outside help in sight. They could do, well, anything to her and she wouldn’t be able to stop them.

“Get your hands off of me!” she yelled, trying to pull her arm out of the big guy’s grip.

Jayne shook his head, pushed her through the door ahead of him, and let go. She was free, but him walking behind her meant she had to keep moving down or he’d run into her.

“I’m doin’ you a favor,” Jayne said. “Mal ain’t no fun when he gets all ‘I’m-th’-ruttin’-captain-a’-this-boat.’ Trust me, you don’t wanna piss him off. Last time I did that, he threatened t’ send me out the airlock.”

“ _What the hell?_ ” Brass shrieked. “ _Out the airlock_? Is everyone on the _tā mā de_ ship certifiably _bǐnggān_?” [4]

“You really ain’t run with our kind before, have you?” Jayne said as they stepped into the mess.

“What the _tā mā de_ does that have to do with anything?” Brass spat.

“‘Cause if you had, you’d know that a captain what don’t got control of his crew gets everybody dead,” he answered. “Mal’s one a’ th’ better ones, treats you decent ‘til you step outa line. Or until he gets feelin’ out a’ sorts, though mostly he just takes that out on me’n Simon.”

“Who’s Simon?” Brass asked as they left the mess and headed for the stairs.

“Our doc,” Jayne grunted.

“I thought it was just the three of you on the ship?” Brass said.

“You don’t gots t’ be worryin’ about that,” Jayne said as they entered the passenger lounge.

“What, like I don’t have to worry about the fact that the Core kid speaks nonsense half the time?” Brass asked. “Seriously, what is with that?”

“Like you done said, you don’t have t’ worry ‘bout that neither,” Jayne growled. “Just remember, you mess with River, Mal an’ the airlock’ll be th’ least a’ your worries. If you’re lucky, I’ll get t’ you first. If not… well, let’s put it this way: th’ captain and I ain’t th’ most dangerous things on this boat. Now get your stuff an’ I’ll show you your bunk.”

 

***

 

“Been a while since we did a salvage job,” Jayne remarked over the com as he, Mal, and River floated awkwardly down the main corridor of the derelict terraforming vessel _New Frontier_. “Anybody else wonderin’ when we’re gonna stumble over a madman or get buzzed by a cruiser or be ambushed by a lawman come back from the dead?”

“I own, it’s crossed my mind,” Mal said.

“What happened t’ this junker, anyhow?” Jayne asked as they reached to hatch to the lower deck.

“Not rightly sure,” Mal said as he and Jayne started jimmying the door open with the pry bars. “The records River accessed said th’ ship just dropped off th’ radar without a word.”

The door slid open reluctantly and they floated down a stairwell into what looked to have been the ship’s common area. As they shone their lights across the clear plexi tables and the low, grey couches, Mal tensed, already suspecting what they were going to see. Sure enough, two bodies were lying on the floor near the opposite end of the room. One was curled up into ball, while the other was sprawled awkwardly on its side with its back towards them, so they couldn’t see the faces, for which Mal was thankful.

“Heart broke, sadness bled out,” River said softly as they stared at the corpses.

“What’s ‘at, little Albatross?” Mal asked.

“Rip in the mitral valve,” River said. “Ship cried, but nobody heard. Couldn’t see Death in the air, didn’t realize it was there until it had them by the throat.”

“Leak in the engine?” Mal guessed, putting the pieces together. “Somethin’ toxic as got int’ th’ air, poisoned th’ crew?”

“Ten electrons in the valence shell,” River said. “Asymmetric. Binds with hemoglobin to produce carboxyhemoglobin. Looks like Santa Claus, but doesn’t come bearing gifts.”

“Huh?” Jayne said.

“Reckon she’s describin’ what killed these folks, but I got no idea what it means,” Mal said. “Never was much for chemistry.”

“Fear, horror, confusion,” River whispered. “Invisible monster stalking them… Didn’t want to die, but couldn’t fight, didn’t know where to aim…”

“Aw, hell,” Jayne said. “We forgot she can hear dead folks. Baby girl, you can’t be listenin’ on them. We gots us a job t’ do, remember?”

River’s suited body jerked a little.

“Purpose,” she murmured.

“Come on,” Mal said.

They left the common area and continued on towards the hold. There was another body near the entrance to the crew quarters, and this time the face was clearly visible. It was a young woman, and while there was nothing particularly horrible about her expression, the way her open eyes were fixed on nothing was disturbing.

“ _But I’m going to have a baby,_ ” River whispered, scaring Mal nearly to death until he realized that her voice and inflection were not her own. “ _I can’t die, I’m going to have a baby_.”

“ _Shānyáng niào_ ,”[5] Jayne swore. “Don’t listen, River-girl. Just… don’t listen.”

Mal looked down one more time at the young woman who had died mourning for a child who would never be born, then looked away.

By the time they reached the first level of the cargo hold, they were all a mite on edge, so when the ship’s com crackled, Mal nearly jumped out of his space suit.

“What is it, Brass?” he snapped.

“ _There’s a light flashing_ ,” Brass’s voice said across the com.

Having been prepared for pirates, Alliance, Reavers, or worse (though he had to own, he wasn’t sure what was worse than Reavers), Mal did not take this communication particularly well.

“There’s a light flashin’,” he repeated, in the same manner that one might say ‘there is _gǒu shǐ_ [6] in the middle of the floor.’ “You called us in th’ middle of a job t’ tell us that there’s a light flashin’?”

“ _I don’t know what the_ tā mā de _it means,_ ” Brass said, missing the danger signs.

Mal dearly wished that he wasn’t wearing a suit and could pinch the bridge of his nose, because he felt the mother of all headaches coming on.

“Which light?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“ _Well if I knew that, Twiggles, I wouldn’t be calling_ ,” Brass sneered.

The conversation was being piped into all of the suits, not just Mal’s, and Jayne cracked up as he and River moved through the groups of crates, looking for the rations section. Mal closed his eyes and counted to ten.

“Tell me where it is and what color it’s blinkin’,” he said very calmly, fantasizing grabbing the little _fūrén_ [7] by the collar and shaking her until she got a handle on that smart mouth of hers.

“ _Red_ ,” Brass said. “ _And it’s on that_ qíguài de pìgu[8] _extra panel that’s wired in below the main control switches_.”

Aha. Kaylee and Wash’s little quick-link between the engine room and the cockpit, the panel they’d installed after one too many times when a switch needed to be hit in a hurry and the person who needed to hit it was at the other end of the ship. There was one in the cockpit and another one in the engine room. Unfortunately, since they were cobbled together out of spare parts and shoestring, only Wash and Kaylee had known how the hell they worked.

And River of course, because River knew everything.

“River,” Mal said. “Need your help.”

River and Jayne had found the right crates and were using magnetic cable to hook them together so they could be maneuvered through zero-G. River stopped what she was doing and looked up, eyes blinking at him through the glass of her helmet.

“Can’t… can’t see,” she said. “Too many voices crying out, can’t see through the screams.”

Mal winced, trying not to think what it must be like having dead people wailing in your head.

“Here,” he said. “I’ll show you th’ panel and you can tell me what does what.”

He called up a mental image of the bridge and concentrated on the relevant area.

“Three red lights,” she said. “Heart, blood, and breath.”

Okay, that sounded like there were three red lights on the panel, each of which indicated something about _Serenity’s_ workings— River usually talked about to the body of the ship like it was a human body. The heart was always the engine, so apparently one red light indicated something about that. He didn’t know what the other two were, but before he got into that, he needed to figure out which light they were dealing with.

“Okay, Brass, I need you to tell me where exactly the light is,” he said. “I got three possible options and I need t’ narrow it down.”

“ _It’s the third… light bulb down on the left-hand side, the one in between a loose two-way and— is that a piece of a soup can?_ ” Brass said, sounding disgusted. “ _Honestly, what the_ dìyù _is this, a kindergartener’s science project?_ ”

“Cut th’ chatter,” Mal snapped. “Albatross?”

“ _So what are we breathin’?_ ” River said.

“Life support,” Mal said, trying not to think about the day he thought River was referring to, the day _Serenity_ had almost died for good. “Okay, little one, what’s goin’ on with life support? We got an LS indicator on the main board, what does this light tell us that one don’t?”

“Shortcuts don’t show up on the main map, need their own,” River said. She paused, cocked her head, and looked at Mal solemnly through her helmet. “Someone’s been naughty, going on the back roads without permission,” she told him.

A nasty suspicion crept into Mal’s mind.

“Brass,” he said, trying to sound friendly, but failing, “Had you, perchance, been messin’ with th’ panel in question when th’ light came on?”

“ _Maybe_ ,” Brass said, somehow managing to sound sullen even over the com. Then her voice changed, becoming defiant. “ _Hell, if I’m going to pilot this scrap heap, I need to know what the controls in my_ fēngkuáng[9] _cockpit do._ ”

“ _Fójiào de shèngjié mǔqīn hé suǒyǒu tā de xiǎo zázhǒng xiōngdì_ ,”[10] Mal snarled. “You may be sure we will be talkin’ about this later. In th’ meantime, River, what exactly has Miss Bold as Brass done t’ my ship?”

“ _Whatever’s left is what we’ve got_ ,” River said in her Kaylee voice.

“ _Fótuó de qiú hé jīdū de xià!”_ [11] Mal yelled. “Are you tellin’ me that she shut down th’ gorram life support?”

“What?!” Jayne broke in. “Blondie shut down th’ ruttin’ life support?”

“ _LIFE SUPPORT IS DOWN?_ ” Brass yelped over the com.

“ _Kěnéng jīngyú hé dà xiàng yěcān hé shēngchǎn yīng'ér hémǎ_ ,”[12] Mal hissed.

“ _What do I do, Reynolds?_ ” Brass yelled. “ _Tell me what the_ tā mā de _to do! What do I press to fix this?_ ”

Mal looked at River, who was staring at him with huge, dark eyes.

“Taking life is easier than giving it,” she said. “Can’t just pull a trigger, tell her to breathe again.”

“‘Parrently it’s a mite harder to turn back on than it is to turn off,” Mal said. “Looks like it’s gonna have t’ wait ‘til we get back t’ th’ ship.”

“ _And what do I breathe while I’m sitting with my_ thumb _up my_ pìgu _waiting for you to get back to the ship_?” Brass demanded.

“Calm down,” Mal said. “You got hours a’ air in there, even with the life support powered down. ‘Specially since it’s just you breathin’ it.”

“ _You sure about that?_ ” Brass said. “ _You ever tried shutting down life support and seeing how long it took you to suffocate?_ ”

“Matter a’ fact, I have,” Mal said. “I made it a good long time, though I did get gutshot. But that’s another story. Now quit your catterwaulin’ and sit tight. And for _God’s_ sake, don’t touch anythin’ else!”

He switched off the ship’s com and they continued the operation in tense silence. River was getting increasingly jumpy the longer they were on the _New Frontier_ and Mal was starting to worry that she was going to be in no shape to do what they’d brought her for, which was to open the derelict’s main loading bay. Neither her nor Jayne could do it, it required hotwiring a battery into the controls and bypassing a bunch of systems, all of which could either fry the circuitry and freeze the door shut for good or, if they were particularly unlucky, make the whole thing go _boom_.

With Mal’s luck, it would definitely go _boom_.

Eventually, Jayne gave up telling her not to listen to dead people and started singing to her over the com, a ballad with a sweet tune and the most disturbing words Mal had ever heard. It appeared to be about some place called Ava’s Creek and the ungodly things folk there got up to there, some of which were very ungodly indeed. When Mal asked mildly whether Jayne thought that was really the right song to get rid of a case of the willies, Jayne owned he’d never thought much about the words, then went right back to singing it.

Oddly, it actually did seem to calm River down.

Finally they got the crates of protein linked together and they left the upper cargo bay, Jayne towing the line of crates behind him like ducklings with Mal coming behind to make sure they didn’t snag on anything.

The main loading bay was huge, many times as big as the upper hold, and filled with heavy equipment. These weren’t the actual terraforming plants— those were whole ships in themselves and were piloted separately— they were the machines needed to set up and maintain the plants once they reached their destination. Of course, _Serenity_ wasn’t big enough to take the actual machines, but there were racks upon racks of crates filled with spare parts, and tools.

“You good t’ do this, darlin’?” Mal asked River as they located the control panel for the bay doors.

“ _Do the job, Sir_ ,” River said in a tight, unsteady voice.

“Good girl,” Mal said.

He was worried sick about her, but he knew that wouldn’t help. She needed him to believe in her right now, not coddle her.

River had given them the numbers of the crates they wanted, rather like Simon had done for the job on Ariel, and Mal and Jayne had written them on the arms of their suits. So, while River got to work hotwiring the doors, the two men started going through the bay, locating and pulling the crates containing the most valuable cargo and fastening them together with more magnetic cable. Each minute that went by seemed like a gorram hour, so it was hard to tell how long it took, but finally Mal heard River’s voice, high and thin as a wisp of cloud, saying “Inner sanctum is breached.”

Mal and Jayne grabbed the cables and returned to the doors, where River was waiting with the rations. The huge sliding panels were now standing open, revealing the _New Frontier’s_ gigantic airlock— honestly, one of _Serenity’s_ shuttles could almost fit in there. They transferred their cargo from the bay floor to the airlock while River unhooked her equipment and moved to the control panel by the outer doors.

“Alright Brass,” Mal said into the com as soon as the last of the crates had been moved, “We’re gettin’ ready t’ open her up. Get _Serenity_ int’ position.”

River had gained control of the new panel and the inner doors slid shut behind them. As soon as they were closed, the outer door began lower. All three of them grabbed onto the handles set into the wall as the airlock depressurized.

River let out a breath.

“ _Break these chains,_

_Steel chains that steal the soul,_

_Keep us trapped,_

_Keep us screaming._

_World of steel,_

_World of screams,_

_And above,_

_Nothing but a sky_

_We cannot see.”_

Mal didn’t recognize what she was reciting, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what she mean by it.

“It’s alright darlin’,” he said. “We’ll have you off this hulk real soon.”

The door fell open and Mal stepped forward, looking for _Serenity._ She was maneuvering to put her cargo bay doors on a level with the _New Frontier’s_ and Brass was clearly having trouble with the attitude thrusters. They were finicky, Mal had to own, but seeing his girl shudder and weave like that set his teeth on edge.

“Brass, you dent my boat, I dent you,” he growled into the com.

“ _Like another dent is going to make a difference_ ,” Brass retorted. “ _Now shut up! I’m trying to make this bucket of bolts behave!_ ”

“Not going to,” River murmured. “Expects to be treated like a lady, won’t listen to anyone who insults her.”

“ _What the hell is she talking about?_ ” Brass snapped.

“She’s sayin’ that _Serenity_ ain’t gonna do what you tell her ‘less you give her the respect she deserves,” Mal said. “Switch her t’ 45 on th’ right and 50 on th’ left, works better that way.”

“ _That makes no gorram sense,_ ” Brass said.

“Don’t have to,” Mal said. “‘S just th’ way she likes it is all.”

Brass finally got the ship stabilized, her doors lined up with _New Frontier’s_.

“Now remember, keep th’ inner doors closed,” Mal said. “Don’t wanna be losin’ pressure, ‘specially since we ain’t got life support on at th’ moment.”

“ _Thanks_ ,” Brass groused. “ _Like I could forget._ ”

A moment later, the _Serenity’s_ ramp began lowering.

One of the problems with this operation was that _Serenity_ didn’t have a soft dock and _New Frontier’s_ designers had never thought they’d be unloading equipment anywhere other than a world, so they hadn’t put one on the bay doors. So they had to do this the low-tech way.

“Right,” Jayne said, “Here goes nothin’.”

He wrapped the end of the first cable around his waist and stepped to the edge of the _New Frontier’s_ airlock. With one long, assessing look at the two ships and their relative positions, Jayne pushed off from the derelict and floated towards _Serenity_. Mal watched, breath bated. With Jayne attached to the cable, it wasn’t like they were going to lose him, but if he missed they’d have to start again. Since he could see River shaking even in her suit, he wanted to avoid any time-consuming mistakes.

 _Wouldn’t mind some a’ what th’ Doc had her on when we was on that ship th’ Reavers hit_ , he thought. _She were cool as lemonade then, didn’t turn a hair, and that had t’ be worse’n this._

“New out of the box, factory settings,” River said, responding to his thoughts. “Don’t think, don’t care. Still heard them, still saw them, still felt them. Just couldn’t understand. Like a rat in a maze, lost and tortured and not knowing why.”

 _New out of the box_. Okay, well, she had come onboard in a cryo box, and they’d come across that ship not long after he kicked the thing open and she came out screaming. Made sense. _Factory settings_. A factory, where things were made.

Oh. The Academy. She’d just gotten out of the Academy. The Academy, which had been trying to make her like the Operative, ready to kill hundreds of people without asking why or crying over the bodies. God only knew what they’d done to make it so she couldn’t understand properly the horror of what they wanted her to do. Mal found himself unspeakably grateful that, whatever programming she’d had that had made it impossible for her to cry for those folks on the settlers’ ship like she was crying for the _New Frontier’s_ crew, she’d broken it since then. He might not like seeing her cry, but at least crying meant she was in control of her own mind.

River met his eyes. The way the lights in her helmet lit her face up made her look like beautiful and kind of ethereal, like a fairy, but there were tear tracks on her face.

“Always better to feel, better to know,” she said. Her face crumpled and she looked back at the closed doors behind her. “They didn’t know,” she said. “Couldn’t fight, just died wondering.”

Jayne landed safely in _Serenity’s_ airlock.

“Alright Mal,” Jayne said. “Listen, think you should send River over first. Get some empty space between her and that ship.”

“Read my mind, Jayne,” Mal said. “Come on, darlin’. We’re gonna get you outa here.”

Mal looped the cable that was still attached to Jayne and put it over River’s head.

“You hold on now,” Mal said. “He’ll do th’ rest.”

She took hold of it and nodded tightly.

“She’s good t’ go, Jayne,” Mal said.

“Roger,” Jayne said.

River moved to the edge of the airlock and then stepped into space. Jayne began pulling steadily on the cable and she drifted across the gap between the two ships. Mal looked down and saw that they were almost out of free cable. The rest was connecting the crates. Quickly, he maneuvered the first crate to the edge and, when the cable went taut, helped it over. He did the same for the one behind it, and the one behind that, and the one behind that. On the other side of the gap, Jayne caught River and helped her onto _Serenity_ , unlooping the cable from around her waist.

“Alright,” Jayne said, “You stand there and holler if you see things goin’ _shānquè xiàngshàng_.” [13]

It took Mal and Jayne about fifteen minutes to transfer the cargo from _New Frontier_ to _Serenity_. By the time they got to the last crate, Mal was sweating inside his suit and wondering whatever happened to making coin off of nice, easy stick-em-ups. He wrapped the end of the last cable around his waist and gave the final crate a nudge over the edge, stepping off after it. There was a long, nauseous moment as he floated in nothing not knowing which way was which and then a pull on the cable and he was floating across the void towards his ship.

He’d never been so happy to get into the airlock in his life.

“Okay Brass,” he said, “We’re on. Close her up and let us in.”

“ _On it_ ,” Brass said.

The ramp swung closed and, when it sealed, Mal felt the gravity engage and the airlock pressurize. The inner door slid open and they stepped into the cargo bay. Mal reached up and unlocked his helmet, pulling it off and taking several deep breaths. For a moment he savored the taste of oxygen that didn’t come out of a can before remembering that they had rather pressing problem relating to air that needed seeing to. He looked for River and saw Jayne helping her out of her helmet. A look at her hands showed they were shaking too bad for her to release it herself.

 _Gāisǐ de_. [14] This could be an issue.

“How you doin’, little one?” he asked.

“Can’t stop it, don’t want to die,” she mumbled. With her helmet off, he could see that she’d started crying again, tears spilling quickly down her cheeks even as she muttered to herself. “What do I do? What do I do? Not time, not time, not time to die. _Qǐng, shàngdì, ràng wǒ yīkuài shítou_.” [15]

“ _Gāowán_ ,”[16] Jayne swore. “‘Slike Miranda, her listenin’ to a bunch a’ dead folks as don’t know what killed ‘em. C’mere, baby girl. We’re back on _Serenity_ , no need t’ be listenin’ on them anymore.”

He drew her against his chest and stroked her hair with one big, gloved hand.

Mal moved to the intercom and punched the button.

“Brass, we’re on,” he said. “Get us th’ hell gone from here.”

Hopefully, if they got away from that ship and its ghosts, River could get a grip on herself. He turned back to Jayne and River, not registering that Brass hadn’t acknowledged the order.

“What d’you need, _ài rén_?” [17] he asked River. “What can we do?”

 

***

 

Brass moved quickly down down the stairs towards the catwalk, her body practically vibrating with anger and nerves. She’d been sitting on that goddamned bridge for over an hour, counting every breath and wondering if it was her last, and she wasn’t going to put up with it for another minute. She wanted the life support back on _now_ and she was going to make sure it happened.

Buddha knew, these _kōngjiān hés_ [18] couldn’t be trusted to prioritize properly.

In the four days she had been on this tin can of a boat, she had come to the conclusion that everyone on it was as _kuáng_ [19] as a freaking carnival clown. They talked nonsense like it was sense, they were so casual towards crime that they seemed frankly bored, and they didn’t appear to notice that the ship they were living on was some sort of mad science experiment.

They would probably leave the life support off for fun.

Seriously, the ship was ten kinds of messed up, even when it was running properly. There was, of course, the fact that it seemed to have been rewired by a little kid with a used electronics set, but that wasn’t the main thing. The damned boat was haunted. She wasn’t just talking about the fact that sometimes things went _bump_ in the night. No, she was talking about the fact that there were at least five other people who ought to be there, but weren’t. There were empty bunks that clearly belonged to someone— she’d peeked into the one across from hers and seen the belongings of what looked like a two people all spread around, like they’d just left and were coming right back— but were unoccupied. There were various set-ups— a hard metal playlist programmed into the bridge computer, the tools for making loose-leaf tea in the mess, a game hoop on a pulley hung from the ceiling of the bay— that indicated routines that none of the current crew performed. And there were objects all across the ship— a collection of medical journals in the passenger lounge, shampoo for curly hair in the showers, freaking _plastic dinosaurs_ on the bridge— that sure as _hell_ did not belonged to the uptight captain, the big brute of a merc, or the _fēng le_ little Core girl.

It was creepy as _tā mā de_.

Brass came burst onto the catwalk and looked down into the cargo bay, a demand for action already on her lips, but she froze before any sound came out of her mouth.

 _Serenity’s_ three other crew members were standing by the cargo bay doors, helmets off, still wearing their suits. The big mean merc was holding the tiny Core deb against his chest with a worried expression on his face, while the rigid captain was standing right by the merc’s shoulder, murmuring softly to her. It was the most unlikely picture Brass could well imagine.

The relationship between the crew was confusing to Brass in general. She knew, because she’d seen the rings, that all of them were married, but she couldn’t figure out who to. She’d been operating under the assumption that the girl was married to one of the guys— although with all of the obvious missing pieces of this messed up puzzle, it was entirely possible all of them were married to other people— but she’d never figured out _which_ guy. The girl acted the same with both of them— cuddly and crazy— and they both acted the same with her— protective and possessive. Now, Brass didn’t pretend to be an expert in marital relations, but she had a hard time believing that, if Nut Job was married to one of these rough-necked _húndàns_ , the one she was married to would be fine with her being all over the other one.

“ _Qīn'ài de nǚhái_ ,[20] what do you need?” Reynolds was saying. “Tell us what you need, sweetheart.”

“Diver in the sea, can’t pull her up,” River sobbed into the merc’s suit. “Can’t do anything, don’t have hands! Not a girl, not a weapon, not a person, just… nothing!”

 _Oh, great,_ Brass thought. _We’re all about to turn blue and Core Girl is throwing a tantrum._

Aloud, she said, “Hey! While Princess there is having a little girl moment, we are running out of breathable air. How about you two stop holding her hand and _turn the_ tā mā de _life support back on_!”

Both men’s heads came around really fast and the looks on their faces caused Brass to take an involuntary step back. The merc’s murderous scowl made him every bit as terrifying as she’d thought he was back when she interviewed for this screwed up job, while the captain’s icy cold glare… okay, so she suddenly believed Jayne that this man could put someone out the airlock and not lose a moment’s sleep over it.

“Jayne,” Reynolds said, his voice real cool and even, “Take care a’ River. Brass,” he looked at Brass like she was some sort of amoebal life-form growing in his commode, “Get your ass back up on the bridge. And when you’ve got us away from this wreck like I ordered you to, you and I are gonna have us a little chat.”

“ _What about the life support?_ ” Brass all but screamed.

“Bridge!” Reynolds barked. “ _NOW!_ ”

And somehow the command was so compelling that Brass found herself turning around and running for the bridge even though he hadn’t answered her question.

She got back to the bridge and threw herself in the pilot’s chair, flicking the flight mode switches and grabbing the yoke while maintaining a constant litany of curses under her breath. _Serenity_ jerked under her hands and did a little shimmy, just to be annoying, then backed off the derelict and turned to face open space. Brass punched up the coordinates the captain had given her earlier and went for half burn, snarling as the engines did a shaky double take before engaging.

“What a piece of _lèsè_ ,”[21] she muttered under her breath as they finally moved off on their new course.

“You keep mouthin’ off like that, I may just decide t’ let you walk home,” Reynolds’s voice said from the door.

Brass whirled the chair around, heart pounding painfully. Reynolds was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, face grim. After staring at her for a moment, he moved onto the bridge and settled against the copilot’s console, looking down at her in a way that made Brass wonder if she should have brought diapers on this little excursion.

“See, while your busy lettin’ your mouth run, I got a ship t’ keep in th’ sky, a crew t’ worry on, and a job t’ do,” Reynolds continued. “You do what your told and don’t make trouble, I don’t make much nevermind what comes outa your gob, but so far, you been causin’ me all manner a’ grief and you ain’t even doin’ what I pay you for. So let me make this clear: I put you in charge a’ the bridge, you stay on th’ bridge. You wanna know what somethin’ does, you ask. And above all, you do what I say, when I say it, end of story. _Dong ma_?”

“Oh really?” Brass said, covering her terror with a show of bravado. “And is that how it works for little miss I-can’t-even-talk-straight, or is she special?”

Reynolds’s eyes narrowed.

“This boat is our home,” he said. “You are a guest here ‘less I say otherwise. What River says and does is not your concern. Though if you want t’ be thinkin’ on her, you can think on this: she’s the only one on board right now as knows th’ workings of this ship. That life support you’re so keen on ain’t goin’ back online without she puts it there.”

What? The continued functioning of this rust bucket was dependent on that wacked out little drama queen? What kind of idiot thought that was a good idea?

“You are a bunch of goddamned psychos, you know that?” Brass bit out.

“This is the way it is,” Reynolds said, completely unfazed. “Now, you get one more shot. You screw up again, I put you off th’ next planet I see. You get one a’ my crew hurt, I put you off even if there ain’t no planet. Do we have an understandin’ between us?”

Brass stared at Reynolds. He stared back, cold and implacable. Finally, her nerve broke.

“Sure,” she said. “Whatever.”

“Shiny,” Reynolds said and, without another word, straightened up and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Brass cried. “What about the life support?”

“As soon as River recovers from bein’ on a ship full a’ dead folk, I’m sure she’ll see to it,” Reynolds said, then left the bridge without looking back.

Brass stared after him, mouth agape.

A ship full of dead people? What the hell?

Then her brain caught up with her.

The ship they’d just been pulling stuff off of had had a crew. It stood to reason that, if nobody had known where the sucker was, that meant none of them had made it back. Which meant that they had most likely have died when the ship went down.

Reynolds, Jayne, and River had spent the better part of two hours wandering around a boat full of corpses.

Brass pressed a hand over her mouth, suppressing the urge to gag. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

 

***

 

Jayne got him and River out of their suits, all the while listening to her ramble about invisible death and untimely ends, and tried to think of some way to calm her down. So far, none of the usual methods— distraction, physical contact, distance from the source— seemed to be helping and he was getting nervous. While the situation wasn’t critical yet, they needed to turn the life support back on some time in the near future or they would all end up, as the doc put it, ‘fetal and bloated.’

He listened to River whimper in what he was coming to recognize as her reciting voice, the one she used when she was quoting something he had sure as hell never read.

“ _Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright_

_Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,_

_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._ ”[22]

“C’mon, _bǎobèi_ ,” he muttered, putting his arms around her and rocking her gently, “Snap outa it.”

“Tilting at windmills,” River mumbled. “Need to fight back, but there’s nothing there, just empty air.”

Jayne had an idea.

“You want somethin’ t’ fight, baby doll?” he said, letting her go and stepping back. “Well then, you can fight me. I reckon I’m a bit more solid’n empty air.”

She blinked at him, confused.

“C’mon,” Jayne said, putting up his hands in a defensive position. “You gotta be able t’ do some sorta sparrin’ won’t do permanent damage. A body don’t get moves like yours without trainin’, and it’d get mighty annoyin’ if you killed all your trainin’ partners. You do that and you fight me until all those ghosts in your head shut up.”

She considered for a moment, then, almost too quickly to see, threw a punch at his face. Jayne was barely able to step out of the way in time, and, as he blocked a kick and dodged some truly deadly flip thing, he wondered if this was his best idea ever. However, when she landed a open-handed chop on his arm, he could feel that she’d pulled it, so he stopped worrying that she was going to kill him and started looking for ways to fight back— or, since he really wasn’t a match for her, at least give her a good workout.

He wasn’t sure how long they sparred, he never could keep track of time in a good fight, but he did know he’d never seen anything as gorram beautiful. There was something about River fighting to fight, not to maim or to kill (which always seemed to make her sad), that brought out the beauty of what she did. The doc had been right, River’s fighting really was more like dancing than anything else.

Finally, she got him down on the ground with her body on top of him and her wrist against his windpipe, though thankfully she didn’t actually apply the pressure needed to cut off his air. They stared at each other, breathing hard, and Jayne was relieved to see that her pretty brown eyes were finally focusing properly.

“Better, _mì táng_?” [23] he panted.

She nodded.

“Ghosts go back to Hades,” she said. “However, new concerns present themselves: cardiovascular and muscular systems operating at 77.9% efficiency, stamina compromised.”

“Huh?” Jayne said.

“Out of practice,” River explained.

“Well, we can do this any time you want, baby girl,” Jayne said. “I like a good fight and you’re gorram beautiful when you get goin’.”

River grinned and leaned down to kiss him, and Jayne buried his hands in her hair and kissed her back. They were just getting properly into it when a throat cleared above them. Jayne pulled away from River and looked up. Mal was looking down at them with that wry expression that said simultaneously, ‘nice-to-see-folk-enjoyin’-themselves’ and ‘I-got-a-ship-to-run-knock-it-off.’ He’d worn that look almost continuously for the first month after Kaylee and the doc got together, back when it was almost impossible to go anywhere on _Serenity_ without finding them in a liplock or worse.

“Well,” he said, “Looks like you two found a solution t’ th’ problem. Near scared me t’ death, lookin’ down and seein’ you fixin’ t’ kill each other, but since, overall, you seem t’ be on… more’n friendly terms, no harm done.”

“Needed to fight back,” River said solemnly.

“Well,” Mal said, “That I surely understand. You feel up t’ fixin’ th’ life support now, little one?”

River made a face, but clambered off Jayne and got to her feet, straightening the loose blouse she wore over her dance shorts— her usual outfit for EVA, didn’t get in the way of the suit.

“Non-polar solute, cannot dissolve in a polar solvent, just hangs around causing trouble,” she groused. “Basic chemistry, facts aren’t going to change.”

“No idea what you’re tryin’ t’ say, darlin’,” Mal said.

“Bold explorer barged into the village and knocked over the huts,” River tried. “Moved onto the next village, left the villagers to clean up the mess.”

Mal snorted.

“You talkin’ ‘bout our newest addition?” he said.

River wrinkled her nose.

“House isn’t _tā mā de_ babyproof,” she said, then turned and trotted off towards the engine room.

Mal watched her go with a rueful laugh, then reached down to help Jayne up.

“Reckon she may be right, at that,” he said as he hauled the bigger man to his feet.

“Right about what?” Jayne asked, rolling his neck and assessing himself for injuries.

“Our new pilot seems t’ have some growin’ up t’ do,” Mal said, “And I got some doubts whether she can do it ‘fore she gets us all into a world a’ trouble.”

“ _Tā mā de_ ,” Jayne said.

 

***

 

Sleeping arrangements on _Serenity_ had been a kind of ongoing puzzle ever since the wedding had thrown them all into this crazy new ‘verse where the old rules didn’t work, the new rules didn’t make any kind of logical sense, and the impossible seemed to happen on a daily basis. River hadn’t slept alone since that first night, but whether she slept in Mal’s bunk, Jayne’s bunk, or the shuttle— and, if in the shuttle, whether with one or the other or both of them— was a sort of fluid proposition.

Mal had long since realized that, while there was no immediate pattern to her choice of sleeping partner, on average he was sleeping with just her about one night in three, and with both her and Jayne about the same amount. After spending most of the war sleeping up against one or another of his platoon members, sharing a bed with Jayne didn’t bother him in terms of intimacy, but he had to own that closing his eyes with the other man in the same room had made him a bit jumpy at first. He might trust Jayne on a conscious level, but apparently his unconscious had still had some leftover reservations from the days when the merc had first come on board and Mal had had to watch him like a hawk to keep him from doing something stupid. After the first couple times, though, he had managed to relax and now found a certain amount of reassurance in having everybody in one place. Maybe it was something to do with worrying on his missing crew all the time, but it was a comfort to have his remaining family all together where he could keep an eye on them.

Since they’d brought Brass on board, River had mainly been staying in the shuttle, and simply indicating at bedtime who she wanted to go with her. The night after the salvage operation, it was obvious long before bedtime that she was going to want both of them. Her eyes kept flicking back and forth between them, as though making sure that they were both still there, and there was a nervous tension in her body that told Mal that, while her impromptu cage match with Jayne might have helped, she still wasn’t quite running on an even keel.

Mal had no intention of letting Brass put the ship on night running by herself, so after dinner, he jerked his chin at Jayne and nodded towards the shuttle, while, at the same time, thinking hard at River.

_You two go on, darlin’. I’ll be along._

After watching narrowly as Brass went through evening checks and switched everything over to night mode— she wasn’t half bad when she settled down and applied herself, he noted— he left the young pilot with a stern admonition not to touch anything she didn’t understand and headed for the shuttle.

They’d made it a little more livable in the last few weeks: reconnected the plumbing, arranged the furniture in some sort of actual order, found a chest of drawers in the cargo bay so they could all keep some clothes and sundries there. River had dug out an old piece of canvass from the cargo bay and hung it at the foot of the bed to create a peaceful sleeping area. She’d used some of her art supplies to paint the canvass before she’d hung it, a replica of the design from the ship’s hull, a gold circle inside an orange one with white Chinese characters spelling out _Serenity_. Jayne had, of course, stashed some serious ordnance in the room (Mal would have liked to have made fun, but the truth was, the way their luck ran, he didn’t blame Jayne one bit; he didn’t even say anything about Jayne bringing grenades on routine jobs anymore), so there were two repeaters, a rifle, and a handful of sidearms on the wall by the bed. As for Mal, he’d put a Chinese lantern over the main overhead light to mellow out the glare and, after a little back-and-forth in his own head, hung a mirror so he could see the entranceway from the bed. Sure, mirrors weren’t technically supposed to go in bedrooms, but Mal knew he’d be a whole lot calmer if he had a line of sight to the door. Besides, he figured there were already three people in this relationship, so it wasn’t like _that_ was going to be a problem. [24]

When Mal stepped into the shuttle, he found Jayne and River sitting on the couch with Jayne brushing River’s hair. River was sitting sideways with her knees drawn up under her chin and Jayne had turned his body so he could reach. Mal remembered that they’d told him that Jayne brushing her hair cleared River’s head, so figured they must be working on getting her mental balance back. Mal knew more or less what River liked by now, so he moved over to the couch and sat down quietly in front of her. Sure enough, she reached out one small hand and he obligingly took it, twining their fingers together. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes.

There were a whole number of things the three of them could have used this moment of privacy to talk on— most of them to do with their problematic new crew member and the _tā mā de jùxīng_ [25] she’d almost made of the job— but somehow it seemed important right now to just enjoy the peace and quiet. Mal listened to the hiss of the brush through River’s hair and the sound of his companions’ breathing and, for just a little while, let go of the worries and irritations that kept piling up around him.

Finally, Jayne finished his task. He set the brush down and gathered up the silky mass of River’s hair in one big hand, pulling it to one side and letting it fall over her shoulder. Then he leaned forward a pressed his lips against the pale skin at the base of River’s neck. She shivered slightly.

“How you doin’, River-girl?” he said softly.

“ _There is one fate for the righteous and for the wicked_ ,”[26] River murmured softly.

“Yeah,” Jayne said, picking up on the gist of River’s words mighty quick for a man who probably hadn’t read the bible since he was a kid, if then, “We’re all gonna die, some of us sooner’n others. Ain’t particularly pleasant when we get minded on it th’ way we were t’day though.”

“ _Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,_

_Old Time is still a-flying;_

_And this same flower that smiles today_

_Tomorrow will be dying,_ ”[27] River said, replying to Jayne, but looking at Mal too.

Mal had a suspicion he knew what she was getting at— flowers with River did tend to have a particular association. Sure enough, she leaned forward and brushed her lips softly against Mal’s in a light, but surprisingly sensual kiss.

“Now there is a phi-losophy that I can get behind,” Jayne said.

The look River gave the other man over her shoulder was pure sin and Mal’s breath hitched sharply. Jayne let out a low growl.

“ _Definitely_ my kinda thinkin’,” he said, leaning down to kiss her neck again, this time with a good deal more purpose.

River, meanwhile, reached out and took Mal by the front of the shirt, pulling him into another, much deeper kiss.

It was kind of like learning to kiss all over again, doing this with a third person thrown into the mix. Even if you didn’t mind bumping into the other fellow’s hand or arm occasionally— and Mal had gotten pretty good at taking that in stride, though he still had moments where he wondered if the whole ‘verse had lost its gorram mind— there was a whole other body you had to avoid accidentally injuring or inconveniencing.

Three people, it seemed, had an exponentially increased number of knees and elbows to account for.

Still, he'd gotten to where he enjoyed it. For one thing, as Jayne had pointed out the night of their wedding, when it was all out in the open like this, it was less like they were doing some to be ashamed of. Since Mal still had a lot of bible learning inclining him towards shame when it came the more carnal pleasures of life, that was all to the good. It was also just plain reassuring having two people watching out for River instead of one. Considering how often he had managed to make Inara cry through sheer _niútóu_ [28] stupidity— and her a fully trained Companion, supposed to be in control of her emotions and everything— he figured that having someone else there to head off any potential misunderstandings was probably just as well, for both him and Jayne.

He had one hand on River’s waist, caressing her hip with his thumb, and he found himself sliding it up her side to just under her breasts. He was itching to go further, but something— Repression? Restraint? Good manners?— held him back. River made a soft, desperate sound against his mouth.

Jayne lifted his head from River’s shoulder.

“Weren’t you th’ one who told me not t’ frustrate th’ _fēng le_ assassin?” he asked. “Quit teasin’ th’ girl.”

Mal pulled away from River and looked at Jayne in surprise— the man’s peripheral awareness was downright uncanny. River giggled breathlessly, then took advantage of the pause to start working on the buttons of Mal’s shirt. Jayne responded to this by sliding off the couch and shifting her so he could slide her skin-tight black shorts off her, running his big hands over the flesh he exposed. River finished her task and pushed Mal’s shirt off his shoulders, taking the suspenders with it, and started to run her small hands over the planes of his chest. Mal let out a stifled moan and closed his eyes. Her fingers paused briefly at the knife wound from Niska’s man, then drifted down to his waist to trace the scar left by the Operative’s sword and the hole from where he’d been shot by the pirates with the catalyzer. There were various other lines and marks, some from _Serenity_ , some from the war, and some from back on his Mama’s ranch, and River’s fingers seemed set to get to know them know them all.

It was the best kind of torture in the ‘verse.

When her hands finally left his body and he opened his eyes, Jayne had his own shirt off and was in the process of removing River’s. Mal realized that they were about to have to make some tactical decisions here, which was annoying, because he was feeling too good for planning right now.

But that was when being with a genius Reader who loved, ah, _flying_ came in right handy, because she could figure this stuff out without a whole lot of unnecessary talking. She stood up from the couch, gloriously naked and delightfully flushed, and looked at them with heavy eyes.

“Fire and fury, burns away the rage,” she said, holding out a hand to Jayne. “Balm and blessing, heals the soul,” holding out the other to Mal.

And, because he already knew how he wanted to make love to her after the death they’d seen today, Mal understood what she was telling them. Jayne needed it hard and fast, Mal slow and sweet. So she’d take Jayne first, get out all the anger, then afterwards she’d let Mal sooth the hurt.

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly bone dry.

God in heaven, the girl was going to kill him.

They moved to the bed and, once they got there, River crawled into the middle while Mal and Jayne shed the rest of their clothing. Mal let Jayne take the lead, stifling a moan at the erotic sight of him and River on their knees in the middle of the bed, hands sliding over each others’ skin, tongues entwined. Then Jayne pulled back and turned River around so she had her back up against his chest. River cocked her head, ‘listening,’ then abruptly her eyes went black and liquid. She reached out a hand to Mal and he went where she wanted him, on his knees in front of her. She leaned forward to kiss him, bracing her hands on his shoulders as she did so.

Suddenly, her body jolted against him and she let out a strangled moan. Looking up, Mal saw that Jayne had his fingers inside her, and he realized what they were intending.

He drew in a ragged breath. _Wǒ de ma_ , the girl really was going to kill him.

 

***

 

River was bloody gorgeous.

Jayne looked down, watching her lithe body arch as she leaned forward to kiss Mal, and let out a long breath as he watched her dark hair caress the pale skin of her back. The movement pushed her hips back against him, causing his already uncomfortably sharp arousal to become downright painful. He gripped the gentle curve of her hip with one hand and slid the other between her thighs, feeling the wet heat of her arousal.

She’d read him right, no doubt about it, getting all up close and personal with death always made him want it fast and rough, made him want to grab everything— booze, food, trim— with both hands and hang on. Book had told him that was normal, wanting to feel alive after looking at the alternative, which Jayne thought made sense. The Shepherd had been awfully practically for a man of God. However, just because he wanted to take her quick and hard didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make sure she was ready. He just wasn’t going to be as gentle about it.

He slid two fingers into her body, causing her to shudder and jerk against him. He held her steady with the hand he had on her hip and Mal, figuring out what was going on, braced himself and put his hands on River’s smooth shoulders, giving them something to push against.

Oddly, if he hadn’t seen Mal do almost the exact thing he was about to do, that day on Imperia when he finally gave into the gorram inevitable, Jayne would have been hesitant to unleash these particular instincts with River. He knew River was strong, stronger than him and Mal put together most likely, but she was so small and she looked so fragile and he was so used to protecting her. But if she could handle Mal all worked up after a fight, she could sure as hell handle Jayne after a trip through a graveyard. After all, Jayne might be a bad man who killed people for a living, but he didn’t have near the amount of darkness or anger in him that Mal had.

He got her wet, but, for the first time, didn’t let her come. She was finally getting to where she didn’t start out feeling like a virgin every time they did this, and he wanted to be inside her for her first orgasm. He slid his fingers out of her and put his arm around her hips, holding them in place as he thrust into her smooth and fast. She cried out, but, braced against Mal like she was, her body stayed steady as a rock. Jayne had enough brain cells left functioning to note that he felt way better about having Mal holding her in this position than he would have if she were pressed up against a wall or something. Mal could make sure she didn’t hurt herself.

Then he couldn’t think at all, just move. And River moved with him, both of them reminding themselves that, while death was never far away, they were both still alive.

 

***

 

By the time Jayne came in her, Mal had lost count of the number of orgasms River had had. It seemed that rough sex was rather the opposite of a problem for her, something he would probably end up tying himself in knots about later, but for now, he had other things to occupy him. For instance, the fact that, while his instinct was to give her a break, River seemed to be thinking more along the lines of a quick, smooth transition.

Jayne pulled away from her and lay down hard— clearly he didn’t have his body quite under control right now— his breathing deep and heavy. River fell against Mal, but even as she shuddered out the last aftershocks of the climax she’d just had, she was reaching up to kiss him and running her hands down his back in a purposeful kind of way.

Mal, who was in some sort of newly discovered nethersphere of sexual arousal, nevertheless managed to protest.

“Darlin’, slow down,” he said. “Take a minute. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Mal,” Jayne rumbled, his voice low and rasping, “When you gonna learn not t’ argue with her ‘bout what she wants? You ain’t never won and you ain’t never gonna.”

Mal gave up then, because damnit, Jayne was right (and was it just him, or was that happening a lot lately?). He kissed River back, running his own palms down her satin smooth back and pulling her flush against his body.

However, although he might have lost the argument about doing this right away, he was going to take his own sweet time about it. He kissed her until they were breathless, then pulled away from her mouth and began moving down her throat and over her collarbones, savoring the salty sweetness of her skin. Soon he had her trembling for a whole different reason and, when she couldn’t keep herself kneeling upright, he laid her down on Jayne, her head pillowed on the other man’s shoulder and his arm around her. The big man absently stroked her dark hair as Mal’s hands found the unthinkably soft swell of her breasts and his mouth closed around one sensitive, rosy peak.

When she was taut and whimpering under him, Mal finally shifted so he was lying between her slender thighs. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he pushed into her slowly, watching her face the whole time. Her body arched and her eyelids fluttered uncontrollably and Mal felt something tight and uncomfortable in his chest loosen.

Everything was going to be alright.

He began to make love to her as sweetly as he knew how, using his body to soothe away all the pain and hurt caused by this broken ‘verse.

 

 

 

[1] Vagina

[2] Penis

[3] Bitch

[4] Crackers

[5] Goat piss

[6] Dog shit

[7] Madam

[8] Weird-ass

[9] Freaking

[10] Holy mother of Buddha and all his little bastard brothers

[11] Buddha’s balls and Christ’s unders

[12] May a whale and an elephant fornicate and produce baby hippos

[13] Tits up

[14] Damn

[15] Please, God, make me a stone. Reference to _Serenity_ , although what River is actually saying there when she speaks Chinese is, “I will close my eyes and my heart and become a stone.”

[16] Balls

[17] Sweetheart

[18] Space cases

[19] Mad

[20] Darling girl

[21] Junk

[22] From Dylan Thomas’s “Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night.”

[23] Honey sweet

[24] According to the rules of feng shui, having a mirror in the bedroom can bring a third person into a relationship if it reflects the bed. Mal is probably using the mirror more like a cook in a kitchen, who hangs a mirror over the stove so he can see people coming up behind him.

[25] Fuck fest

[26] Ecclesiastes 9:2

[27] From Robert Herrick’s “To Virgins, Make Much of Time.”

[28] Bullheaded


	11. The First Rule of Flying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

There was a lag on the starboard retro, a wobble on the port aft stabilizer, and a serious chatter in the primary buffer panel. Brass gritted her teeth, hung onto the yoke, and wondered nervously if she was about to spread bits of this clunker boat over half of Greenleaf’s southern continent. In the co-pilot’s seat, River was sitting with her knees up to her chest, watching the planet’s worryingly swift approach placidly.  

Brass had managed to get on Reynolds’s bad side at breakfast that morning, which was why River was co-piloting Brass’s first landing, even though Brass couldn’t understand a gorram thing the girl said. Honestly, Brass thought she might have spent all five days since leaving the _New Frontier_ on Reynolds’s bad side, though sometimes it was hard to tell, him not being the chatty type. But this morning there was not room for misinterpretation: Reynolds was pissed at her.  

It wasn’t her fault. How was she supposed to know that making a joke about how the protein they were having was so bad, not even an Independent soldier would think it was edible would put her so far in the doghouse she probably didn’t even _have_ a doghouse anymore?  

Okay, so the fact that Reynolds been wearing a brown duster when he hired her might have tipped her off, but honestly, the war had been over for the better part of a decade, it wasn’t like only browncoats wore brown anymore. And yeah, maybe if she’d paid better attention to the news back then, she would have recognized “Serenity” as the name of the valley where the Unification War had ended in an unholy bloodbath. But come on, she hadn’t watched the news much growing up, and she had probably been locked out of the house the week the war ended anyways. 

They continued their descent and Brass noted that their target coordinates were under heavy cloud cover, which made this whole thing a lot less fun. There was no dock where they were going, just a town, so she couldn’t call into a tower and get a talk-down. Her first landing on this ship and she was going to have to do it blind.  

She double checked her instruments to make sure she was still on course and that nothing was obviously wrong.  

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the debutante sit up abruptly, unfolding her legs and leaning forward in her seat. Nervously, Brass triple checked her console, but everything still looked normal. 

“Little fish, turbulent water,” the girl hissed, her face going pale. “Can’t see the shark, swims right into its jaws. Swim away, must swim away!” 

“What the hell?” Brass said. “Look I’m kinda busy here, kid, so if you’ve got something to say, just say it.” 

“Sharks!” River said, turning to look at her. 

“I don’t know what that means, Nut Job!” Brass said.  

River gave an impatient cry and leaped lightly from her chair, coming to stand beside Brass.  

“Have food already, won’t attack unless we cross their path,” River said urgently. “Swim up, before they have no choice!” 

 “Okay, if you can’t make sense, _bì_ _zuǐ_ ,” Brass snapped. “This piece of junk isn’t the easiest thing to land, I don’t have time for _tā_ _mā_ _de_ guessing games.” 

“UP!” River yelled.  

“Up?” Brass said. “We’re not going up, Nut Job, we’re landing!” 

They were nearing the cloud cover now and Brass was terrified. She had no visual on her landing coordinates, the ship was screwing with her, and her co-pilot was talking nonsense. 

“ _Reavers_ _!_ ” River screamed in Brass’s ear.  

“What the _tā_ _mā_ _de_?” Brass said, catching the ship before it could go into a spin as they descended into the clouds. “Crazy Girl, this is _not_ the time to talk to me about Reavers. _I am trying to land and if you keep distracting me, I’m going to crash this_ _gorram_ _ship, do you_ tā mā de _understand me?_ ” 

River made an inarticulate sound of anger and, before Brass knew what was happening, the _tā_ _mā_ _de_ psycho girl had lifted one slender bare foot and kicked Brass clean out of the pilot’s chair. Brass felt the ship lurch sickeningly as the her hands were ripped from the yoke and then grunted in pain as she hit the grating of the floor. 

 

*** 

 

Mal and Jayne were pulling the cargo destined for Badger’s contact on Greenleaf out of the second starboard compartment when the ship practically fell out from beneath their feet. Jayne grabbed onto the wall with a startled curse and Mal ended up on his _pìgu_ , snarling with fury and bruised dignity. 

“That _duìbùqǐ_ _jíkǒu_ _wèi_ _dodo de_ _pìgu_ [1] __girl!” Mal roared. “Brass!”__

He picked himself up and ran for the bridge, Jayne half a step behind him. There were no more jolts, but Mal could feel that the ship was being pulled up _hard_ , with a spin trying to start on the port side. 

“Brass, are you crashin’ my gorram boat?” he yelled as he careened out of the stairwell into the bridge corridor.  

He sprinted for the cockpit and threw himself up the steps, catching his weight on the doorway as he skidded onto the bridge, Jayne on his heels. Quickly, he took in the situation.  

River was in the pilot’s chair, wrestling with the yoke to bring _Serenity_ out of her landing approach. Brass was trying to sit up from the floor by the pilot’s chair. There was blood trickling from a cut on her forehead and she looked pissed. Outside the windscreen, grey cloud cover was giving way to a patchy view of their landing coordinates.  

“ _Shèng_ _hóuzi_ _gǒu_ _shǐ_ ,”[2] Mal swore. 

There were three ships already parked outside the town of Jefferson, and even from this altitude, he could tell what kind of ships they were. Their jagged profiles were unmistakable and one of them was belching black exhaust. 

“You little _zi_!” Brass said, glaring at River and using the console to haul herself up.  

“Can you get us out of this before they see us, Albatross?” Mal demanded, stepping forward without taking his eyes off the Reaver ships. 

“Too late, already in their waters,” River said, ignoring the other pilot.  

“That _fēngkuáng_ _yīnhù_ ”[3] attacked me!” Brass yelled, lunging for River.  

Under normal circumstances, River could have defended herself, but she was still trying to level the ship out. Brass caught her with a backhand across the face before Jayne and Mal got her by the arms and hauled her bodily to the other side of the room.  

“You _chǔn_ _de_ _mǔ_ _zhū_!” [4] Jayne snarled. “What th’ hell d’you think you’re doin’?” 

There was a red mark on River’s right cheekbone that indicated she was going to have a hell of a bruise later, and Mal felt his blood heat up. So he did what he’d always done when a member of his platoon did something unutterably stupid: he got right up in Brass’s face and spoke in a voice that indicated he was one snapped nerve away from killing someone. 

“We just dropped outa th’ sky int’ th’ middle of a gorram Reaver raiding party,” he said. “Now, unless you want t’ die slower an’ more painful than you can well imagine, you will keep your _tā_ _mā_ _de_ hands off th’ pilot. _Dong ma_?” 

River had gotten them out of their descent but a look at the Reaver ships showed that one of them had seen them and was in the process of lifting off. 

“Can we outrun ‘em?” Mal asked. 

“Vulture is not a peregrine, but it can still catch a firefly,” River said, taking one hand off the controls to call up a geoimaging. “Tall grass, only chance.” She apparently saw something on the geogrid, because she yanked the ship around and started flipping switches on Wash and Kaylee’s jury rigged connection to the engine room. “ _Get ready for hard burn… They’d be crazy to follow us in there,_ ” she said, her voice sounding an awful lot like Wash’s when he was about to do something nuts. “ _Wow! 'Kay! This kind of flying really wakes a guy up… Awake is good._ ”[5] 

Apparently, the panel allowed her to go for burn even without someone in the engine room, because _Serenity_ leaped forward. 

“There's really Reavers?” Brass yelled. “ _How can there be_ _Reavers_?” 

“This is th’ Rim, pansy-ass,” Jayne snapped. “Lotsa things out here as is just bad bedtime stories on Persephone.” 

“But… how did she know?” Brass cried, half hysterical. “There was nothing on the scopes and the cloud cover— _how the rutting hell did she know_?” 

“River told you there was Reavers?” Jayne said. “Why th’ hell didn’t you get us out before they saw us?” 

“There was nothing there!” Brass screeched. “She said ‘Reavers,’ but there were no visuals, no chatter, the scopes were empty— _there was nothing there_!”  

Mal knew that, if they made it out of this, he was going to have a decision making to do, but right now, he leaned against the pilot’s console, watching the rear vid. At one point, he shifted his gaze so he could see where River was taking them, but she snapped at him. 

“Can’t see if the eyes don’t stay put!” 

Mal was puzzled for a second, then realized that she had been watching the Reavers through his eyes while using hers to deal with the geogrid and the windscreen.  

He went back to watching the rear vid. 

Flying with River at the helm was nothing like flying with Wash. Wash had been brilliant and wild and occasionally insane, but he hadn’t been a genius or a Reader. River knew what the Reavers were going to do before they even did it and she could keep half a dozen calculations going at the same time, allowing her to keep _Serenity_ constantly dancing just out of targeting lock while not losing one whit of speed. 

Of course, since they were in atmo, that made for a rather queasy ride, but Mal would rather be airsick than dead any day. 

River was muttering under her breath: 

 _“Here am I, naughty little fly;_  

 _you are fat and lazy._  

 _You cannot trap me, though you try,_  

 _in your cobwebs crazy!_ ”[6] 

“ _Tián_ _fú_!” Jayne yelled. 

Mal’s head jerked up just in time to see them miss an entire gorram mountain by a spit and a whisker. His first impulse was to scream at River, but he knew that, if he wanted them to have a chance in hell of getting through this, he needed to do what the shepherd always said: he needed to have faith. 

 _Come on, come on, come on,_ he thought. _You can do this_ _darlin_ _’. You’re my Albatross, my good luck. You can do this._  

They were moving at hair-raising speeds through a the jagged peaks of an arid cordillera, with River dodging crags and darting through narrow passes in a manner that had them missing hunks of rock by gorram inches. 

“ _Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,_  

 _For I would ride with you upon the wind,_  

 _Run on the top of the_ _dishevelled_ _tide,_  

 _And dance upon the mountains like a flame,_ ”[7] River said, her voice low and urgent. 

“You _chún_ _dàns_ , can’t you see that the girl is _tā_ _mā_ _de_ _fēng_ _le_?” Brass shrieked. “She’s going to kill us all!” 

River yanked back on the yoke and _Serenity_ went vertical, practically scraping her belly on a steep wall of scree. Mal’s stomach rolled as the view in the rear vid went kerflooey, then it steadied he saw the Reaver ship directly below them… flying straight at the mountainside. 

“ _Zànměi_ _zhǔ_ ,”[8] he breathed. 

The explosion shook _Serenity_ from stem to stern and River hung on grimly, keeping the ship from spinning out of control. Behind them, Brass screamed and Jayne gave a triumphant yell. 

As soon as the boat evened out, Mal leaned forward and kissed River hard on the mouth. 

“That’s my angel,” he said, his voice rough. 

He’d prayed for angels in Serenity Valley and gotten Alliance ships instead. But today, on this no-account planet way out on the Rim, his prayers had been answered. Not by a messenger from on high, but by a brilliant, gorgeous girl who had been to hell and come out crazy and deadly and gorram _magnificent_.  

River smiled. 

“ _I am a leaf on the wind_ ,” she said. “ _Watch how I soar_.” [9] 

Mal grinned back at her. 

“He was flyin’ with us t’day and no mistake,” he said. “Can we get offworld, _wǒ_ _de_ _ài_ ,”[10] or do we need to lie low?” 

River’s smile became wider and she bit her lip, blushing. Only then did Mal realize exactly what he’d called her, but he didn’t regret it. After all, how could she be anything else? 

“ _Can’t take the sky from me_ ,”[11] she said, reaching up and flicking the flight mode switches in preparation for breaking atmo. 

Jayne came up to stand on the other side of the pilot’s chair. He put reached out with one massive hand and gently stroked her hair. 

“That were the damndest thing I ever did see,” he said gruffly. “Well done, _bǎobèi_.” 

River’s grin got, if possible, even wider. 

A few minutes later, they were out of the planet’s atmosphere and heading for the cover of its asteroid belt. 

“Think our buyer made it out of that _gǒu_ _shǐ_ _fēngbào_?” [12] Jayne asked. 

“Three Reaver ships?” Mal said. “Not a chance. Looks like we’re gonna have t’ make a change a’ plans. Can you get Badger on the com, _ài_ _rén_?” 

River nodded, punching the code into the wave connection. After a few minutes, Badger’s face appeared on the screen. 

“ _Mal?_ ” he said, frowning. “ _And_ _th_ _’ little witch. This can’t be good. What ‘_ _ave_ _you done t’ my cargo?_ ” 

“Keep your shirt on, Badger,” Mal said, trying to figure out what was different about Badger’s appearance. “Your cargo’s safe an’ sound, thanks t’ ‘the little witch.’ Your buyer, on the other hand, ain’t doin’ so well. Far as we can tell, he’s Reaver chow.” 

“Shèng shǐ!”[13] Badger gasped. “ _‘Ow_ _d’you_ _know_?”  

“‘Cause they was in Jefferson when we got there,” Mal said. “Came after us, but my girl crashed their ugly backsides into a mountain, sent ‘em all t’ the hot place. Town didn’t stand a chance, though.” 

“Luósī wǒ de zǔmǔ, hé tā de yáng,”[14] Badger snarled. “ _Guess I’m_ _callin_ _’ the fellow who lost_ _th_ _’ bid t’ tell ‘_ _im_ _it’s ‘is lucky day_.” 

“And where might he be?” Mal asked, calculating how much fuel they had. 

“ _Silverhold_ _Colonies_ ,” Badger said.  

Mal started to run the numbers, but, unsurprisingly River came up with the answer first. 

“Can make it,” she said, “But with only a 0.2% margin.” 

“We’ll be runnin’ on fumes, time we get t’ Silverhold,” Mal told Badger. “Any chance you could negotiate a refuel for us?” 

“ _I’ll make it part of_ _th_ _’ deal_ ,” Badger said. “ _Least Bragg can do t’ say thanks for ‘is good fortune. I must say, Mal, I’m impressed. Not many ships as can survive a_ _Reaver_ _chase._ ” 

“We do what we gotta do t’ stay in the sky,” Mal said. “You got those coordinates handy?” 

“ _I’ll send ‘_ _em_ _through_ ,” Badger said. “ _And I’ll tell Bragg t’ have a refuel team_ _waitin_ _’._ ” 

Mal nodded, then took a breath.  

“You could also tell him, if he’s got a line on anyone as would make a decent backup pilot, t’ send ‘em our way,” he said. “We seem t’ be shorthanded again. Our witch may be a gorram miracle worker, but can only be in one place at a time.” 

“ _Will do,_ ” Badger said, and cut the wave. 

As the middleman’s image winked out, Mal finally figured out what had been bugging him. 

“ _Wǒ_ _de ma_ ,” he said. “Badger cleaned his gorram teeth!” 

“What the hell?” Brass asked, her voice still not quite steady. “Another backup pilot?” 

Mal turned to look at her. Her head was still bleeding and the blood stood out starkly against her white face. Mal regarded her soberly. 

“I told you I’d give you one more chance,” he said. “That was it.” 

“ _That wasn’t my fault_!” she cried. “There was no way I could of known they were there!” 

“River _told_ you, you dumb-ass cow,” Jayne said. 

“She’s _tā_ _mā_ _de_ insane _!_ ” Brass cried helplessly. 

“Told you when you came on board,” Mal said, “She tells you to do something, you do it. I also told you what would happen, you did otherwise, so just be grateful I ain’t leavin’ you on Greenleaf for the Reavers.” 

Brass glared at him. 

“Some browncoat you are,” she said. “Didn’t you fight a gorram war for independence? For the right _not_ to follow stupid orders?” 

Mal regarded her wearily. 

“Rights is funny things,” he said. “On a lotta planets, I got me th’ right t’ own an indentured servant an’ beat ‘em every day a’ th’ week ‘cept Sundays. Don’t mean I should though. Fact is, without right _thinkin_ _’_ , ‘rights’ is just so many words. Best you figure that out, you aim t’ make your way in this ‘verse. ‘Cause, as you may have noticed, that stupid order you didn’t follow was pretty gorram important, and th’ ‘crazy girl’ who gave it is the only reason you’re alive.” 

 

*** 

 

Getting stuck on a two-bit mining colony at the edge of the _sāncì_ _zǔ_ _ed_ [15] ‘verse with scarcely a red credit to his name had not been part of Jack’s plan. His involuntary stay on Silverhold had been one of those things that just happened, like hurricanes or _prajñā_. [16] Although Jack had to say, Silverhold was kind of the opposite of a spiritual awakening. If ever there were a place that embodied the cycle of suffering, this was it. 

So when Hennie-- the proprietor of the brothel where he was staying in return for his (mediocre) skills as a bartender and because Hennie liked his smile-- told him that an old client of hers had word of a transport coming into Smelting looking for a backup pilot, he was grabbing his bag and hitching a ride cross-planet before the old Madam had fairly finished talking. He kissed her wrinkled cheek on the way out the door and told her he’d be back to say hello, privately vowing that it would be a cold day in hell before he set foot on this planet again. 

He got to Smelting two days ahead of the ship, so he found a local dive bar and charmed his way into a couple nights of free room and board with a lady of mature aspect who worked at the local foundry. The day the ship was due to arrive, he kissed her goodbye (all the while doing his best to achieve an inner state of _upekkha_ ,”[17] and _not_ because he found his hostess to be an object evocative of lust) and headed to the docks. 

The docking coordinator (who was way too sly in his sexual inclinations for a bigoted backwater like Silverhold) gave him the ship’s ETA in return for a few moments of mild flirtation, and Jack made his way to the docking ports.  

The ship’s name was _Serenity_ and she was a Firefly-class mid-bulk transport. Jack had heard of them— anyone with any experience smuggling goods on the Rim knew about Fireflies— but he’d never seen one before and was taken aback by how clumsy her lines were. However, she set down on her docking pad with economical grace, and Jack wondered why the hell her captain was looking for someone to pilot her when whoever was doing the job right now could handle the ungainly-looking ship with so much skill.  

He watched from across the service road as the dockers approached the ship and began hooking her up for refuel and water exchange. A few minutes later, the ramp swung down and three people emerged from the ship.  

The blond woman with the tattoos and the bag over her shoulder was clearly angry. He was too far away to hear her exact words over the noise of the pumps, but he could sure as hell hear the tone of her voice, and it was not happy. The tall man in the brown duster had one hand on his gun belt and was clearly waiting with strained patience for her to be done. The huge guy with the lurid t-shirt, fingerless gloves, and surplus of armaments— hello, mercenary anyone?— looked equal parts amused and annoyed.  

Finally, the guy in the coat cut of the blond woman’s tirade. He spoke calmly and quietly for a minute, then handed over a handful of credits and what looked like a sidearm. The woman stared slack-jawed at the gun, her entire body screaming wariness and confusion. The tall man said a few more words, then indicated quite clearly that the conversation was over. She opened her mouth, but the big mercenary folded his arms and said something which had her snapping it shut again. She stuffed the credits into her pocket and put the gun awkwardly into her pack before turning around and marching off. 

The two men stood at the foot of the ramp watching her go, and Jack decided that this was his moment. He slung his back over his shoulder and sauntered across the service road towards the ship. 

“You’re a gorram bleedin’ heart sometimes, captain,” the big merc was saying, musclebound arms folded across his broad chest. “You paid her what she were owed, you didn’t hafta go and arm th’ little screech-harpy t’ boot.” 

“She’s gonna continue in this line a’ work, she’s gonna need it,” the guy in the coat— who was, apparently, the captain of the ship and thus Jack’s ticket out of here— said soberly. “‘Specially if she don’t wisen up and start thinkin’ with her head instead a’ her mouth.” 

At that moment, the mercenary caught sight of Jack approaching. He alerted the captain with a grunt and a flick of his eyes and the tall man turned around. Jack put on his friendliest smile and approached them, hand outstretched, deliberately ignoring the way both men’s started reaching for their guns. 

“Hi!” he said cheerfully. “I’m Jack Harriman. I hear you fellows are looking for a pilot.” 

“That was quick,” the big guy rumbled. 

The captain surveyed him with cool, assessing eyes. 

“That we are,” he said. “You a friend a’ Bragg’s?”  

“More like a friend of a friend,” Jack said, presenting his hand to the captain and smiling sunnily. 

The captain took the proffered hand and shook it. His grip was hard, but controlled, and Jack made a mental note that this was not a guy to mess around with.  

“I’m Captain Malcolm Reynolds and this here’s Jayne Cobb,” he said, releasing Jack’s hand and hooking his thumb back in his gun belt. “You ever flown transport on th’ Rim before, Mr. Harriman?”   

“I’ve moved cargo out here for years, but not as a pilot,” Jack said. “Last time I was a pilot, I was transporting passengers in the Georgian worlds. And please, call me Jack.” 

“So you know that work out here ain’t always straightforward and aboveboard,” Captain Reynolds said. 

Jack grinned.  

 _Oh, Captain, if you only knew_ , he thought. 

“I’ve done my fair share of tariff dodging,” he said. “I know the drill.” 

“Fair enough,” the captain said. “We ain’t offerin’ much, five percent net profit on all jobs, but you get your own quarters and free run a’ th’ mess. Not t’ mention, a low profile when it comes t’ th’ Alliance, you have a need for it.” 

“Captain, I’d gladly pay _you_ to get off this hunk of rock if I had the credits,” Jack said with a laugh.  

“Understandable,” Captain Reynolds replied. “So, we got some rules. First, no drinkin’ or usin’ on th’ job. Second, no workin’ on th’ side ‘thout my says-so. Third, you get told t’ do somethin’, you do it, no questions asked. Finally, you get any a’ my crew hurt, I will act as I see fit. We comprehendin’ one another so far?” 

“Yes sir,” Jack said with a nod. 

The mercenary, Jayne Cobb, snorted and the captain shot him a quick, irritated look. 

“Shiny,” Captain Reynolds said. “Now, before we shake on this deal, there’s someone you need t’ meet.” 

The captain ushered him into a run-down, dusty cargo bay and hit an intercom beside the bay doors. 

“Darlin’?” he said. “Can you come down t’ th’ cargo bay for a minute? Got someone I want you t’ see.” 

“Dāng yīgè nǚrén shuō shì de, tā de xīn shuō yěshì,”[18] replied a young, Core-accented female voice over the intercom. 

Jack’s ears perked up at voice and the preceding endearment. His eyes flicked over the Captain Reynolds again, and sure enough, there was a plain gold wedding band on the man’s left hand.  

Interesting. Very interesting. 

Cobb leaned against the doorway, looking at Jack with an indifference that was belied by the coiled tension in his shoulders and the alertness in his eyes. Jack had the feeling that, if he moved in any way the big guy didn’t like, he might find himself missing a limb.  

Not ideal, but nothing he couldn’t work with. 

“‘Sit just me, or is she particularly cheerful this mornin’?” Cobb asked. 

“Reckon she is,” Captain Reynolds replied. “Can’t say as I blame her. I was gettin’ t’ findin’ Brass’s presence a trifle wearin’ my ownself, so I can only rightly imagine what she was makin’ of it.” 

“Brass?” Jack asked, tentatively connecting the name with the blond woman he’d seen leaving.  

“Our previous co-pilot,” Captain Reynolds said. “She found us not t’ her likin’, so we parted ways just ‘fore you showed up.” 

“You mean she made one too many dumb-ass moves and you fired her,” Cobb said with a smirk. 

“That’s another way a’ lookin’ at it,” Reynolds said with an indifferent shrug.  

A light step above them alerted the three men that there was an addition to the party. Jack looked up at the catwalk and caught his breath.  

The girl standing at the railing looked like a princess out of a fairy tale. She was slender, with long dark hair, huge dark eyes, and a heartbreakingly pretty face. She wore a fluttering blue dress and a close-fitting navy cardigan, but her feet were bare, and when she moved, it was with a dancer’s delicate grace. She descended lightly to the floor of the cargo bay and came to stand beside the captain.  

As soon as she stepped into the light, Jack stiffened. In addition to the expected wedding ring on her hand, she was sporting a very prominent bruise on one porcelain cheek. _Yīqiān_ _zǔzhòu_. [19] Okay, this made things a bit more complicated. He hadn’t taken Captain Reynolds for the kind of man who hit his wife, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d misjudged someone.  

Putting on his kindest smile, he stepped forward and held out his hand, palm up.  

“Hello,” he said gently. “I’m Junjie Harriman, but my friends call me Jack. What’s your name, _xiǎo_ _gōngzhǔ_?” [20] 

The girl cocked her head to one side, studying him with her huge brown eyes, then reached out and put her slender fingers delicately in his. 

“River Reynolds,” she said.  

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Reynolds,” Jack said, brushing his lips briefly across her knuckles, then stepping back before her husband got angry. 

Except a quick look at Captain Reynolds showed that he wasn’t much interested in Jack or his antics. All of his attention was focused on his wife. 

“Well, Albatross?” he asked, his voice calm, but curious. 

The girl frowned, her incredible eyes still fixed on Jack. 

“‘An immoral person may not have a miserable existence, if, after being instructed, he follows the law of righteousness,’”[21] she said, her voice low and clear. 

Jack took half a step back, startled by the girl’s words. He recognized the proverb, but had no idea what she meant by it. Captain Reynolds, meanwhile, turned to look at him speculatively. 

“Could be worse,” he said. “Right then. Our next stop’s Persephone. Trip’s just under a week, should give us some time t’ see if we suit each other. If so, you can come on with th’ terms I mentioned. If not, we both go our way, no hard feelin’s.” 

“Done,” Jack said instantly. 

Like he said, he would have paid every coin he had to get off of Silverhold, if he’d had any coin to begin with. 

The two men shook hands. 

“Jayne,” Captain Reynolds said, “Show Jack where he’ll be bunkin’. And give him a gun if he don’t have one already. Badger’s buyer should be here any time and I wanna leave no doubt in his mind that we are not th’ kind a’ folks he wants t’ try’n deal dirty with.” 

 

*** 

 

Jayne agreed one hundred percent with River’s assessment of Junjie ‘call-me-Jack’ Harriman, though he might not have phrased it quite the same way: Jack Harriman was a con man, but it wasn’t yet clear whether he was the good kind or the bad kind. The good kind were fairly harmless, just penny-ante hustlers trying to make a living, same as the rest of the ‘verse— perfectly decent folk so long as you never trusted them with your goods or your money. The bad kind were compulsive cheats and liars, people who got off on manipulating other sand would sell you out for nothing, just for the pleasure of watching you swing.  

“So,” Jack said said with an affable smile, “How long have you been on the ship?” 

“Goin’ on five years,” Jayne said, studying the man carefully. 

Jack was about half a head shorter than Jayne and maybe twenty pounds lighter, with Caucasian facial features and Eurasian eyes and coloring. He was wearing a dark jacket and dark pants that were sturdy, but not cheap, and the duffel back he had slung over one shoulder was fairly new, so being broke was, apparently, a temporary thing for him. 

Definitely a con man. 

“Wheeew,” Jack whistled. “That’s a long time. Must be a hell of a job.” 

It was an insanely long time for a mercenary to stay at the same job, and they both knew it. If Jayne had still really considered himself a mercenary, he would have gotten defensive. However, as Mal had pointed out a few weeks ago, he hadn’t actually been a mercenary for a while, so he shrugged. 

“Ain’t complainin’,” he said noncommittally. 

“Anybody else on board, or is it just you and the captain and his wife?” Jack asked as they reached the passenger dorms. 

Jayne indicated the room Jack would be staying in, the one that Brass had vacated only that morning. 

“Just us at th’ moment,” he said.  

“Small crew,” Jack said. 

“‘At’s why we’s needin’ a pilot,” Jayne said as Jack put his duffel back on the bed. “You got a gun, or should I get you one outa th’ armory?” 

“I’m good,” Jack said, pulling aside his jacket and revealing a very nice Mackenzie holstered under his left arm.  

“Ditch th’ coat,” Jayne said. “We ain’t never dealt with Bragg b’fore, so th’ captain wants us t’ look armed an’ dangerous. Don’t go shootin’ anybody though, not unless we tell you to.” 

Jack removed the coat without comment and followed Jayne back out of the room, closing the doors behind them.  

“About the ship suddenly needing a pilot,” Jack said, “Isn’t it a bit cold, dumping your previous one on Silverhold? This is the ass-end of nowhere, as I have discovered by experience. She’s going to have a maledictory time getting a ride back to civilization.” 

“She’s lucky Mal’s th’ captain or she wouldn’t a’ made it here at all, never mind gettin’ her share a’ th’ pay,” Jayne growled. “Woman nearly got us et by Reavers. It was up t’ me, I woulda spaced her.” 

Jack’s black eyes widened. 

“Reavers?” he said. “ _Liánmǐn_ _wǒmen_.” [22]

Jayne grunted and the two of them stayed quiet as they came back out into the passenger lounge. 

Reavers were a hell of a conversation killer. 

When they got back to the cargo bay, it appeared that Mal and River were having a difference of opinion, although Jayne suspected that it wasn’t nearly that cut and dried. But Mal had his arms folded and was doing the stern face, while River was doing the sad-eye thing.  

“Is the queen no longer deemed fit to hold the scepter?” she was asking in a small voice.  

The voice did it. Jayne knew River well enough to know that, if she were really mad, she would be yelling. She was putting on an act and Jayne wasn’t buying it.  

“Don’t look at me like that, River,” Mal said severely. “You think all you gotta do is bat your eyes at me and you can get away with anythin’. Well, darlin’, you got another think comin’.”  

Well, looky there, Mal was doing a little act of his own. His forbidding expression hadn’t changed a bit, but his eyes were dancing with amusement.  

As well they should be. He was talking pure nonsense, River had them both wrapped around her finger and he knew it. Jayne had to suppress a snort. 

“Where d’you want us, captain?” Jayne asked, interrupting their little charade before he ended up acting all unprofessional in front of the new hired help. 

“Panthers wait in the branches,” River said, ducking her head so her hair fell over her eyes. “Bulls charge, they can land on their backs without being impaled.” 

“Up top,” Mal said, translating River’s muttering without seeming to even think about it. “They aim t’ shoot us, no sense in makin’ it easy for ‘em by linin’ up like ducks in a neat little row.” 

Jayne nodded and jerked his head at Jack indicating that he should follow him. They ascended the stairs and Jayne brought them to the port side catwalk.  

“They come in, you watch th’ ones in th’ back,” Mal said. “Mal’ll have eyes on Bragg and whoever’s next to him and I’ll keep tabs on the wingmen.” 

“Is Mrs. Reynolds… okay?” Jack asked. “I… she wasn’t making very much sense back there.” 

Jayne looked at him, thinking about the conversation he, Mal, and River had had the night before. River had decided they’d better have a name to put to her condition to avoid more incidents like the one that had almost ended them in a Reaver’s belly. Well, Jayne thought that was what she’d meant. What she’d actually said was, “If the wanderer knows he has met a sphinx, he will try to solve the riddle, knowing she guards treasure. Otherwise he will pass her by, thinking she is a desert jinn trying to lead him astray.” Then she’d written down a name for some kind of speech disorder and made them memorize it. 

“River can’t talk right,” he said aloud. “‘Mixes up what she’s sayin’, can’t find th’ right words,  uses a lot a’ metaphors. ‘S called a-pha-sia.” He enunciated the medical term carefully, grateful that this one was, at least, easier than that _lèsè_ he’d had to memorize for the Ariel job. “Can usually understand her though, you pay enough attention. And you’d better pay attention, ‘cause what she says might just save your _pìgu_ one day. Th’ last pilot had listened t’ her, she wouldn’t be stuck on this _húchě_ _dòng_ [23] of a moon right now.” 

Jayne turned and walked away before Jack could come up with an answer, leaving the other man to ponder on that a spell. 

 

*** 

 

There came a point in every petty criminal’s life when he juast got plum tired of people thinking they could get one over on him. Honestly, did Mal just have a face that said, ‘Yes, cheating me would be a wise notion, you’ll go home safe and have lots of fat babies and live t’ see a ripe old age’?  

“As I understand it, you negotiated with Badger for credits,” he told the paunchy supplier with shifty hands who was trying to get clever with the payment. “You wanna pay in cargo, well, that’s a whole ‘nother ball a’ wax.” 

“It’ll be to your profit, I promise you Captain Reynolds,” Bragg said earnestly, his eyes sincere, but his hands twitching like they had ants under the skin. “Our silver ore is finest in the ‘verse, it’ll fetch you a fine price on any world from here to Bernadette.” 

“It surely is,” Mal said, his jaw hardening. “It’s also subject to a very tidy excise tax, courtesy of the Alliance. We take it in trade, we’re riskin’ bein’ run in for tariff dodging. That ain’t payment, that’s a job, and one neither Badger nor me is interested in at th’ moment.” 

They did not have the contacts to unload Silverhold ore, and even if they did, the stuff was a magnet for trouble. If he took it on board, half the pirates between here and Persephone would probably know within an hour. He was about to demand credits and nothing but credits when River touched his arm. 

Mal looked down at her. She had been standing quietly beside him thus far, looking all pretty and demure, and distracting the hell out of Bragg’s second in command. The guy looked like he might be pretty sharp under normal circumstances, but the scruffy transport captain’s beautiful young wife was, apparently, wreaking havoc on his concentration. Now, she stretched up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, causing the poor underling’s eyes to nearly bug out of his head. 

“Magic trick, switch one coin for another,” she said. “Gaudy silver for subtle gallium.” 

Mal blinked. He’d never even heard of gallium— well, not that he could remember, at any rate. However, if he hadn’t heard of it, that meant Bragg wouldn’t expect him to be able to bargain for it. 

“On the other hand,” he said, straightening, “River just reminded me that I got a buyer might be interested in gallium. If you’re as hard up for credits as you say, might be we could work somethin’ out.” 

Bragg winced almost imperceptibly and his hands started working double-time. He looked around, clearly trying to see if there were some way he could maneuver this situation back in his favor by less orthodox means, but the presence of Jayne and the new guy on the catwalks, leaning on the railings with their guns in their hands, gave him pause. 

Mal smiled. 

Half an hour later, the very grumpy supplier and his men left to go fetch what Mal suspected was probably more gallium than _Serenity’s_ cargo was strictly worth. The amount had been negotiated between Mal and Bragg based (although the other man didn’t know it) on River’s changes of expression.  

Mal wasn’t sure when he’d got so good at reading River’s face, but he’d realized that he could tell by watching her— the tilt of her mouth, the quirk of her eyebrows, the cock of her head— what was on her mind. Like in the cargo bay while they were waiting for Bragg, he’d got to scolding her about telling the new guy her full name. He thought she should have been more circumspect— they’d been being pretty discrete about this marriage, after all— and she’d started pouting, asking why he didn’t trust her anymore. Thing was, he could tell from her eyes she didn’t really mean it. On the contrary, she seemed to think that him getting all stern and captain-y with her was hysterical. So he’d played along, watching her for his cues, until both of them were nearly choking trying not to laugh. 

Apparently, River had a kind of warped sense of humor. Just like him. 

So anyhow, she Read Bragg, he read her, and abracadabra, they had a deal. 

Shiny. 

“Damn, Mal,” Jayne said from the catwalk, “When’d you get clever?” 

“Do I have t’ answer that, Jayne?” Mal asked with a quirk of his mouth and a nod to River, who lowered her eyes in (he was near certain) false modesty. 

Jayne grinned. 

“No,” he said, “No you don’t.” 

“Er,” said the new guy from the other side of the bay, “Not to be nosy, but why _gallium_ , of all things?” 

“I got absolutely no idea,” Mal said, still smiling. “Truth t’ tell, I don’t rightly know what gallium _is_. All I know is, we can make a profit off it without spendin’ th’ rest of our mortal lives dodgin’ feds and pirates. Plus, askin’ for it annoyed that no-account swindler all t’ hell.” 

 

*** 

 

“Nope, swear t’ God,” Cobb said, laughing at the captain’s disbelief, “He just smiled and said, ‘even th’ Lord’s patience has limits.’ Then he hauled off and punched th’ fellow right in his ugly mug.” 

The big mercenary took another large bite of the truly reprehensible protein that served as rations on _Serenity_. Jack wondered how he stayed so big, eating this all the time. Sure, he’d been told that protein packs technically contained everything that one needed to be perfectly healthy, but as someone who had spent most of his life planetside, Jack was having trouble believing it. 

“Shepherd Book punched a man in cold blood because he was hurtin’ a kid,” Captain Reynolds said, shaking his head and smiling that weird half smile he had. “Will wonders never cease. Thought I was the only one as ever managed t’ make him that mad.” 

“Shepherd punched you?” Jayne asked. 

“That he did,” Captain Reynolds said, taking a more conservative bite of his own meal. “After th’ Constance job. I may a’ made a comment on him stealin’ that skimmer and how it made him no better’n me.” 

“Lion was unhappy, so he poked the tiger,” River said.  

She was sitting perched in her chair with her knees drawn up, and her eyes were bright with laughter.  

“You went proddin’ at the shepherd’s morals?” Jayne said, shaking his head. “Of all th’ damn fool things.” 

“Knew better,” River remarked. “Knew that two predatory felines fighting would lead to territorial disputes. But Inara was leaving and you and Simon were busy.” 

Jayne let out a snort. The captain glared. 

“Any time you wanna head th’ subject in a ‘not-makin’-fun-a’-th’-captain’ direction, that’s just fine with me,” he growled. 

Jack tensed slightly. While he hadn’t seen Captain Reynolds get violent during the thirty-six hours he’d been on _Serenity_ so far, the bruise on River’s face was a reminder that he could.  

River turned to look at her husband, her expression hidden from Jack behind the curtain of her hair. After a moment, she slid out of her chair and kissed Captain Reynolds lightly on the cheek. 

“Grumpy lion,” she said. 

Jack felt his skin prickle. He’d seen abused wives before— and had seduced more than his share of them— and he knew that, while some of them cowered all the time, others behaved perfectly normally, believing that violence was simply part of loving someone. Apparently, River fell into the latter category. That was disturbing, but her disability— ‘aphasia,’ the mercenary had called it— made it even worse.  

What kind of man abused a mentally handicapped girl?’ 

As though she could sense him thinking about her, River’s head came up and she looked at him sharply, beautiful face pulled into a frown. 

“Sees, but does not understand,” she said. “Story begun in the middle. Thinks he’s read the prequel, but it was part of a different series.” 

Jack cleared his throat and offered her a slightly nervous smile. Mindful of Cobb’s advice, he took a stab at understanding her. Or at least _looking_ like he could understand her. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, “I’m a little lost. I mean, I don’t know who any of these people you’re talking about are. But hey, no worries, I get the highlights: a priest punched a guy for hitting a kid. And engaged in grand theft hovercraft. I mean, I’m a Buddhist myself, but still, this guy totally sounds like my kind of spiritual guide.” 

Captain Reynolds and Cobb regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then the captain shrugged. 

“I have t’ own, he weren’t half bad for a preacher,” he said. “Jayne, you just about done? Wanna get that air compressor seen to before we lose O² in th’ entire aft section.” 

“Little boys playing in the woods,” River said, shaking her head. “Are going to get lost.” 

“Hey!” the captain said. “I’ll have you know I’ve done this fix before! Back when you was still in pigtails, I might add. ‘Sides, it’s gonna take me’n Jayne both t’ haul that thing outa there, and someone’s gotta keep an eye on Jack. We don’t want a repeat a’ what happened when we was on th’ _New Frontier_ , do we?”  

River bit her lip, looking suddenly anxious. 

“Iphigenia and an Akhian,” she said, eying Jack warily. 

Jack did his best to look as un-Akhian-like as possible, which would have been easier if he knew what the hell an Akhian was. 

“Don’t worry, darlin’, we’re a good ways out in th’ black, it’s not like he can run into anybody,” the captains said, standing up and wrapping his arms around the girl. “Just keep him from pressin’ anything he shouldn’t and we’ll be fine.” 

“You don’t even gotta talk,” Cobb added helpfully. “Just do like my Ma always did when I was sneakin’ a taste from the pot an’ give him a good whack ‘cross the knuckles.” 

With those reassuring words, the captain and Cobb commenced to clearing the mess and a slightly worried Jack followed River towards the bridge.  

“You don’t actually have to hit me,” he told her as he sat down in the pilot’s chair. “Just say the word and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing, I promise, no violence necessary.” 

River gave him an unreadable look as she settled into the co-pilot’s seat. 

“ _The mystery of the kingdom of God has been given to you, but to those on the outside, everything is expressed in parables,_ ”[24] she said soberly. 

Jack smiled warmly at her and nodded, even though he had no idea what she’d just said. 

 

*** 

 

Junjie. Handsome Hero. A fitting name for a man who paid his way in the ‘verse with the brightness of his smile and the attraction of his words. A fakir crafting cheap charms in the bazaar, looked splendid, but didn’t mean anything.  

He was handing those charms out like candy, to her and to _Serenity_ both, two for the price of one; a smile for the girl, a smile for the ship, an indulgent word here, a gentle hand on a control there. He thought that the girl and the ship were a lot alike, both of them lost in the ‘verse, cursed with a cruel master and faulty wiring. River could have told him that he was both more right and more wrong than he knew, that she and _Serenity_ were practically the same, both parts of a greater whole, but that their master was a better man than he could ever understand. 

After all, unlike the street magician who did everything for show, Mal was a true hero. He did what was right no matter the cost and never looked for praise. 

“So, how did you learn to fly?” Junjie asked, his fingers gently caressing the guidance  keyboard. 

 _Serenity_ responded, but River could tell she didn’t quite trust him. 

“Laughter and a bright shirt,” River said. “Listened, learned without touching the keyboard. When the brightness faded away, I sat in his seat and began to play.” 

“His seat?” Junjie said, his mind a jumble of confused thoughts created by her words. “You mean this seat, the pilot’s seat?” 

“ _Oh my God, what could it be?! We're all doomed! Who's flying this thing?! Oh right, that would be me_ ,”[25] River said, trying to explain Wash’s seat to this man who had never met him, but succeeding only in misleading the new pilot further. 

“Yeah, it’s a little scary the first time you sit down and realize that you’re the one in control of an entire blessed spaceship,” he said with a laugh.  

River gave up. She had gotten so use to Mal and Jayne being able to understand her, she had almost forgotten that she was broken. Most days, she felt… not whole, but _real_ , fully functional and, above all, _alive_. She was missing pieces and the universe was still pouring through her head and everything was too complicated to put into words, but she was learning to work with what she had rather than casting about for what was gone. She was finding that there was joy and sorrow and satisfaction in this new, strange existence, perhaps more than in the old, ordered one. And when it all became too much, when time and space all seemed to run together in her head like spilled ink, she could use Mal and Jayne’s thoughts to make sense of the chaos. 

 “How did you come on board, anyways?” Junjie asked, unaware that he hadn’t understood her at all. “Was it when you married the captain, or were you already part of the crew?” 

He didn’t think she could have been crew, not crippled like he thought she was, but saying that would have made things uncomfortable, and the Handsome Hero did not do uncomfortable. 

He wanted to see their position on the axis grid, not the orbital grid, but River could see that he was thinking about the NavSat control, believing it was the display scroller. Irritated by his impending mistake, as well as by his assumption that she was too broken to be a real girl, River stood and moved across the bridge, catching his wrist before he could erase their current flight plan. 

“Children who don’t look before they leap skin their knees,” she said, her voice tight with frustration. 

“Hey, hey, easy there,” he said soothingly, putting one hand on her waist to steady her, even though she wasn’t off balance. 

He didn’t get it, he thought she was answering his question about marrying the captain, that she was regretting her choice.  

He was also extremely aware of her body next to his, of the heat of her skin and the scent of her hair and the feel of her waist beneath his fingers. River drew her breath in sharply, disoriented by the sudden flood of thoughts and sensations. They were at once familiar, the same basic perceptions and impulses that she felt from Mal and Jayne whenever she was this close to them, and unutterably alien, lacking some key component that she could not identify. 

He stood up, turning his body so he could pull her into his arms. He put one hand on her head, leaning it against his shoulder— like Jayne, but not like Jayne. Wrong smell, wrong mind. 

“I understand, _xiǎo_ _gēzi_ ,”[26] he said, stroking her hair.  

Somewhere in her head, River was laughing, because of course, he didn’t understand, but most of her concentration was taken up by the sudden, powerful surge of sexual arousal that had washed over him. It tasted different than Mal’s or Jayne’s, flavored by different hopes and fears and thoughts. 

 _Poor kid, she’s so helpless. Must be hell for her, out here in the black with no one to go to._  

 _She could make this job a whole lot more comfortable._  

 _Buddha, she’s gorgeous. How could he hit her, it’s like breaking a piece of art._  

 _The abused wives are usually the easiest to persuade: a little tenderness and they’ll give you the moon._  

 _She’s_ way _sexier than that foundry worker._  

River gasped, confused and overwhelmed. And then, somehow, she was looking up into the fakir’s black eyes and he was brushing a thumb across her cheek.  

“Hey, don’t cry,” he said, alerting her to the fact that tears had begun spilling silently down her cheeks. “I know it hurts. I’m here _,_ _gōngzhǔ_. I’m here for you.” 

And then he leaned down and pressed his lips gently to hers. 

It should have felt wonderful. He was gentle and skillful, and he was kissing her in a way she knew she found pleasing— like Mal, only more practiced. But it was wrong, all wrong. Something was missing and she couldn’t figure out what it was, but it was important, so important, the most important thing in the ‘verse. 

He shifted his hold on her, settling her more fully against his body and tilting her head back. River complied without thought, distracted by whatever it was she had lost. 

“You are so beautiful, _ài_ _rén_ ,” he murmured against her lips. 

 _Ài_ _rén_ _. Sweetheart._ What Mal called her. Only Junjie Harriman wasn’t Mal and she wasn’t his sweetheart. How could she be? He didn’t know her, _couldn’t_ know her. She wasn’t real to him, just a broken image. 

And suddenly, everything fell into place. River knew why his touch didn’t make her body sing, why his thoughts didn’t make her heart dance, why his hands didn’t make _Serenity_ soar. 

She pulled back and looked up at him, feeling ice flood her veins and freeze her voice. 

“False dissembler,” she said. “Has no right to take a ship in the air.” 

And then her body was moving, tracing the steps of the dance that would remove the threat and keep their home in the sky. 

 

*** 

 

Mal had a nervous feeling on the back of his neck, the one he got when all was not right on his boat. He’d had a similar feeling just before he’d discovered Saffron lurking in the cargo bay and before Jubal Earley had surprised him and knocked him unconscious, so, needless to say, it was making him all kinds of unhappy. 

He tried to keep working, but finally, the feeling got to be too much for him. 

“Jayne,” he said, “Somethin’ ain’t right. I think one of us oughta go look in on River, make sure everythin’s shiny.” 

“Your neck’s itchin’ too, huh?” Jayne growled. 

Mal hauled hauled himself out of the air compressor housing to gape at Jayne. He had been fully expecting the mercenary to laugh at him for being a mother hen, clucking about leaving his chick alone. It had never occurred to him the Jayne might be feeling whatever he was feeling too. 

Damn. that meant there really was something wrong. Jayne usually had pretty good instincts when it came to potential threats. 

Without further discussion, they set down their tools and headed for the bridge, Mal pausing momentarily to retrieve the six-shooter he had stashed in the aft corridor. Jayne, true to form, hadn’t taken his gun off even when they were working on the compressor. 

He couldn’t hear anything as they approached the bridge, but the hairs were practically trying to levitate off the back of Mal’s neck. He and Jayne paused at the foot of the steps, backs to the wall, and exchanged a quick look. Jayne nodded and stepped out into the middle of the corridor, gun pointed at the door, and Mal went in, keeping low so that Jayne could get a shot off if he needed to. He stepped into the room, gun ready, and had a moment of overwhelming deja vu.  

River was in the pilot’s seat, tranquilly making course corrections. Jack was lying on the floor between the consoles, looking dazedly at his wrist, which had been manacled to the grating. 

Mal hadn’t even remembered that those handcuffs were on the bridge. 

Mal straightened, indicating to Jayne with his hand that the threat was contained, and slid the safety back on his gun. 

“Well now,” he said, “Looks like we had us a bit of a situation here here.” 

“ _Túnshǔ_ _gāowán_ ,”[27] Jayne exclaimed, coming up beside Mal. “Didn’t we just leave this party?” 

 “What seems t’ be th’ trouble, little Albatross?” Mal asked, eying Jack warily. 

“She knocked me out with her foot!” Jack said muzzily from the floor. “At least, I think she did it with her foot. How did she do that? I can’t… and I’m handcuffed. Why am I handcuffed? What in the name of Buddha is going on?” 

“Enlightenment,” River said. “Discovered the truth, was liberated from ignorance.” 

“Mmhmm,” Mal said, moving carefully towards River, leaving Jayne to cover Jack— not that Jack needed much covering in his current state. “And what truth might that be?” 

River typed a final sequence into the computer and set the course, then locked the console. Her shoulders sagged and she turned to look at him. 

“Oh my God,” Mal said. “Darlin’, what happened?” 

She was crying, and had been for a while, by the look of it. Her face was covered in salt tracks and her eyes were red.  

“Discovered the missing piece, know what’s wrong,” River said, seemingly unaware that she was crying.  

“What missing piece?” Mal asked, trying frantically to think what she might be talking about. Had something gone wrong in her head, like at the Maidenhead? Was that why she’d taken Jack down? 

“The first rule of flying,” River said, looking up at him earnestly. “ _You can learn all the math in the 'Verse, but you take a boat in the air that you don't love, she'll shake you off just as sure as the turning of the worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she_ _oughta_ _fall down, tells you she's_ _hurtin_ _' 'fore she keens. Makes her a home._ ”[28]  

Mal swallowed hard. He remembered telling River that, the first time they took _Serenity_ into the black after Miranda. Hearing it now, though, it seemed a lot more meaningful than he’d thought it was when he said it. 

“‘At’s right, little one,” he said, crouching down in front of River’s chair and brushing a damp lock of hair back from her face. 

“The Handsome Hero tried to take us into the air,” River said, her voice wobbling. “But he didn’t know the first rule of flying, so we shook him off. Know better now.” 

Mal felt pure, hot anger sweep through him as he grasped the implication of River’s words. Keeping himself calm with an almighty effort, he leaned forward and kissed River’s forehead. 

“You done good, Albatross,” he said. 

Then he stood up and went to go stand over the hapless Jack, who hadn’t understood anything River had said and so didn’t know that his moments in this ‘verse might well be numbered. 

“You son of a bitch,” Mal said. “I oughta kill you right now, but you ain’t worth the bullet.” 

“Mal?” Jayne growled. “She sayin’ what I think she’s sayin’?” 

Mal nodded grimly, eyes still fixed on Jack in a flinty glare.  

“ _Nǐ_ _wūhuì_ _de_ _wūrǎn_ _zhě_ _nǐ_ _zìjǐ_ _de_ _mǔqīn_ _de_ _chuáng_ ,”[29] Jayne snarled. 

Jack, finally grasping his situation, tried to scramble away from the enraged captain and his equally enraged mercenary, but was prevented by the handcuffs locking him to the grate. 

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said, his breathing shallow and fast. “I didn’t mean… it was just a kiss.” 

“Can _I_ kill him?” Jayne asked, his voice low and controlled.  

“I haven’t rightly decided,” Mal said. He crouched down so he could look Jack in the eye. “What were you thinkin’? That you could do as you pleased, touch what you hadn’t been given no right to touch, and there wouldn’t be consequences?” 

“It was just a kiss!” Jack repeated, his voice going high and a bit squeaky. “I didn’t… look, she was… it was… oh Buddha, please don’t kill me!” 

Mal considered the man for a long, long time. Finally, he stood up and turned to Jayne.  

“Take him down t’ his room and lock him up,” he said. “Don’t do nothin’ permanent to him, understand?” 

Jayne nodded. They had perfected this routine over the years: Jayne asked permission to kill someone, Mal appeared to rein him in, Jayne asked to torture them, Mal reined him in, and in the end, a few punches had the poor _húndàn_ so terrified he thought he’d been worked over by Satan himself.  

Jayne growled, but nodded. 

“You got th’ keys, _bǎobèi_?” he asked River. 

River gestured vaguely at the lockers.  

“Nothing happened!” Jack yelped. “I kissed her and she knocked me out! She _knocked me out_!” 

Mal and Jayne ignored him. Jayne found the keys and unlocked the cuffs before hauling Jack up by the collar.  

“You are comin’ with me,” Jayne growled. “Mal says nothin’ permanent, so I can’t get as creative as I’d like. Still, I’m sure I can come up with somethin’.” 

He dragged the man towards the door, Jack stammering an almost incoherent stream of curses and pleas and what sounded like a mangled attempt at a mantra. Mal turned back to River. 

“Are you alright, _wǒ_ _de_ _ài_?” he asked softly. 

She stood up unsteadily and put her arms around him, burrowing into his chest. He held her for a few minutes, stroking her back and murmuring nonsense to her, then picked her up and sat down with her in his lap. 

“He hurt you any?” he asked her gently. 

“Not relevant,” River replied, shaking her head.

"You'd be surprised how much better that don't make me feel, darlin'," Ma told her.

"Blunt force trauma to the cranium leading to unconsciousness," River said with a watery smile. "Made it irrelevant."

"I guess it would," Mal said, his own lips twitching. "But then why all th' tears? Seems t' me you dealt with th' problem."

River's face crumpled again and she pressed one hand to the side of her head.

"Kali, the Destroyer," she said. "They come to her temple and she rains down violence upon them."

"Huh?" Mal said. "You upset 'cause you keep havin' t' knock out our pilots?"

" _Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds_ ,"[30] River said fretfully.

"Here now," Mal said, "None a' that. You did what you had t' do and I for one ain't too choked up 'bout either one of 'em." He drew her against him and rubbed her back soothingly. "You told me that what you do, it makes you a kinda mirror," he went on. "Reflects th' good and th' bad in people. Seems t' me that maybe Brass an' Jack, they had somethin' bad inside 'em that you brought out int' the open." 

"Not right, not what _Serenity_  needs," River said in seeming agreement.  

“What does _Serenity_ need, darlin',” Mal asked.

“Same thing I need,” River said, reaching up and touching Mal's face with her graceful fingers. “A pilot who knows how to love.” 

 

[1] Sorry excuse for a dodo's ass

[2] Holy monkey shit

[3] Crazy cunt

[4] Stupid sow

[5] From "The Message"

[6] From J. R. R. Tolkien's  _The Hobbit_

[7] From W. B. Yeats's "The Land of Heart's Desire"

[8] Praise the Lord

[9] From  _Serenity_

[10] My love

[11] Firefly theme song

[12] Shitstorm

[13] Holy shit

[14] Screw my grandmother, and her sheep too

[15] Thrice cursed

[16] Buddhist concept of enlightenment

[17] Buddhist concept of equanimity. One of the Four Sublime States capable of counteracting lust, aversion, and ignorance.

[18] When a woman says yes, her heart says yes also. Variation on the Chinese proverb, “When a man says yes, his chi says yes also.”

[19] One thousand curses

[20] Little princess

[21] Buddhist proverb

[22] Mercy on us

[23] Crap hole

[24] Mark 4:12

[25] From "Bushwhacked"

[26] Little dove

[27] Guinea pig's balls

[28] From  _Serenity_

[29] You filthy polluter of your own mother’s bed

[30] From the _Bhagavad Gita_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the reviewer who caught the mis-attribution of the "My name is Death" quote.


	12. A Witch's Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

Jack was dreaming of being chased through a sweet shop by a giant tortoise when the sound of his door sliding open jerked him into wakefulness. He bolted upright, heart pounding, and was getting ready to run when his sleep-addled brain remembered that he was on a spaceship and that there was really nowhere to run to.  

The past four days had been a blur of fear and anxiety for Jack. He’d made it through the first day with a swollen jaw and some bruised ribs. Since then, there had been no more outright violence, but waiting to see what would happen next was almost worse. Every day, Cobb brought him his meals in his room and leaned against the wall with an evil grin, watching him eat, leaving Jack to wonder if this was his last meal. Once, when Jack worked up the nerve to ask what Captain Reynolds intended to do with him, Cobb shrugged and said he hadn’t decided yet. Then he asked casually if Jack knew what happened to a body that got left in a half-open airlock while a ship was entering atmo.  

“It don’t get sucked out like when you’re takin’ off,” Cobb explained. “It kinda gets parbaked, if you know what I mean.”  

Jack had nearly choked on his protein.  

This morning, however, it wasn’t Cobb standing in the doorway. It was Captain Reynolds, arms folded, looking down at Jack with a forbidding expression on his face.   

Jack drew back in his bed so far that he hit the wall.   

There was a long, tense silence before the captain finally spoke.  

“We hit Persephone in two hours,” he said. Jack blanched, remembering Cobb’s comment, but Captain Reynolds merely went on to say, “You best be ready t’ go th’ moment we touch dirt.”  

Jack gulped in a huge, relieved breath. Captain Reynolds studied him with cold, dispassionate eyes.  

“I s’pose I oughta thank you,”  he said. “Always did worry that River wouldn’t know what t’ do if some  _chǔn_ _dàn_ got fresh with her. Ain’t like she’s had a lot a’ practice out here in th’ black, and with her bein’ th’ way she is… anyhow, it’s a comfort t’ know that if a man does somethin’ she don’t like, she’ll lay him out.”  

Jack didn’t know which way to look. He was so thoroughly confused by everything that had happened since he’d set foot on  _Serenity_ that he scarcely trusted his own perceptions anymore.  

“I’m… glad I could give you peace of mind,” he managed to get out.  

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Captain Reynolds said. “I see you again, I’ll most likely take up where Jayne left off. You may not a’ done much harm, but it certainly weren’t for want a’ tryin’.”  

“I would never have hurt her,” Jack felt compelled to protest.  

“Lotta ways t’ deal out hurt,” the captain said. “Ain’t all of ‘em leave a mark. You best be thinkin’ on that, next time you decide t’ try your tricks on a girl what ain’t given you leave.”  

With that, the captain left and Jack lay back on his bed, feeling the cold sweat that had broken out on his skin during the encounter dry and trying to calm his breathing.  

Two hours and two minutes later, Jack was walking down  _Serenity’s_ gangplank onto Persephone. He breathed a prayer of thanksgiving for his continued existence and took stock of his situation. He had no idea what city he was in, only that it was malodorous and poor beyond description and that, at the moment, it was the most beautiful metropolis he had ever seen in his life. He picked a direction and set off at as brisk a pace as his bruised ribs would allow.  

  

***  

  

Jayne watched Jack walk away with relief and a dash of satisfaction. The relief came from having that lecherous hump off the ship and away from River. The satisfaction came from the fact that the con man was still moving a mite more cautious than normal. Jayne knew he had probably exceeded Mal’s instructions with those punches to the ribs, but it had felt good and what Mal didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Mal was too soft most of the time anyhow.   

He turned back to the cargo bay where he and Mal were just finishing up getting the cargo ready for Badger.   

Jayne had been on the bridge when Mal had explained to Badger that, instead of the expected credits, they had a hold full of a metal neither Mal nor Jayne had rightly heard of. The expression on the little man’s face had been priceless.  

“ _You’ve got… ‘ow much gallium on that rusty pirate scow_?” he said, trying manfully— and unsuccessfully— to conceal his greed.  

Mal had repeated the amount, and then had quoted current market prices on Persephone, just in case Badger thought he could rip them off.   

It was a measure of how much Badger wanted that gallium that he hadn’t really tried to shaft them. According to River, the stuff was a key component in making most anything that ran on electricity and Persephone had a sudden demand for it, now that their electronics manufacturing was taking off. However, they had been having a hard time keeping up on supply for some reason.   

“The  _Windsor_  reaches its destination, but cannot build a shining new world because the equipment cannot be turned on,” was how she put it, referring to the generation ship that had terraformed Londinium way back when.“Any man with a switch becomes a hero _._ ”  

Jayne might not really understand economics as such, but he knew all about supply and demand. After all, that was why  _Serenity_ was in business in the first place: they transported goods between folks that had something and folks that needed something. The greater the need, the higher the profit (and the more chance of gunplay, but nothing in this ‘verse could be perfect).  

“Well, little one, I see you finally decided t’ come out now our dishonorable guest has seen himself off,” Mal said, looking up.  

Jayne followed his look and saw River stepping lightly onto the catwalk. She was barefoot as usual and wearing her red dress, but she had her ammunition belt and her gun, so apparently, she was planning on being part of the reception committee.  

“Handsome Hero’s bewilderment is boundless,” River said with a disgruntled expression. “Drains the ‘verse of meaning, leaves it raving like a lunatic in the night.”   

Apparently Jack’s real name meant ‘Handsome Hero’ in an older version of Mandarin, which was why River kept referring to him that way, but Jayne wished she’d come up with a different title. There wasn’t anything heroic about a man who put the moves on a married and outwardly moonbrained girl the minute he got her alone.  

“Well, he’s gone now, so I reckon the ‘verse can go back to normal,” Mal said, locking the wheels on the last pallet and settling his hands on his gun belt.  

There was something in his tone Jayne didn’t altogether like, a hint of broodiness that boded no good for their boat if it continued.  

“Normality is an illusion,” River remarked as she came down the stairs and prowled over to the cargo. “Median point on an artificial line.”  

She inspected the crates and then, with casual grace, climbed up the pile nearest the door and perched on the topmost tier.  

Jayne thought how relieved he was that that  _húndàn_ _re_ _zi_[1]  hadn’t done any permanent damage to their girl and River smiled at him.  

“We’re phoenixes, takes more than a pissant Whiskey Delta to knock us out of the sky,” she said.  

Jayne blinked dumbly at her and Mal let out a shocked laugh.  

“You know what she’s talkin’ about?” Jayne asked.  

“Fighter pilot lingo,” Mal said. “I picked some of it up during th’ war, though we really didn’t have much t’ do with th’ flyboys as a general rule. ‘Phoenix’ was what they used t’ call a bird as couldn’t seem t’ get shot down, no matter how many times she got fired at. ‘Whiskey Delta’ was— ah— well, a that was pilot that couldn’t cut it, so t’ speak.”  

“Stands for ‘whiskey dick’,” River added helpfully. “Can’t get it up when it counts.”  

Jayne laughed, as much at the scandalized look on Mal’s face as at River’s off-color remark.   

“Still seems all sortsa wrong, that kinda language comin’ outa your pretty Core-bred mouth,” Mal muttered. “Feel like you’re bein’ corrupted, associatin’ with Rim-rats like us.”  

“If the core is rotten, can the apple really be considered wholesome?” River asked, cocking her head and smiling smugly.  

Mal raised an eyebrow and Jayne, recognizing the play on words— a man in his kind of work had to be on top of wordplay if he wanted to avoid being hustled— smirked. It seemed that making fun of Mal’s Independent ideals never got old, for him or for River. Which wasn’t to say he didn’t respect the hell out of the man for sticking to his beliefs and living by them even when the ‘verse told him not to. It was just damn funny ragging on him, especially since Jayne had been doing it so long that Mal didn’t even really get mad at him for it anymore, not like he did with other folk.  

River abruptly sat up straight, ‘listening’ intently.   

“ _Mellivora_ _capensis_ [2]approaches,” she said.  

Jayne and Mal moved to stand on either side of the door and sure enough, about sixty seconds later, a flatbed mule pulled up and Badger and four of his guys hopped out of the passenger seats.  

Right away, Jayne noticed that there was something different about Badger, although it took him a minute to figure it out. At first glance, nothing much had changed, but closer inspection revealed that his suit and hat, while almost exactly the same as the ones he usually wore, were new and un-greasified. Further, he appeared to have applied some sort of cologne, although he clearly didn’t have a firm grasp of the proportions, because the smell was enough to fell an ox at twenty paces.    

Jayne had to clench his jaw to keep his face set in its usual scowl, because inside all he wanted to do was laugh. A brief glance to the side confirmed that Mal was having a similar battle with hilarity.  

“Badger,” the captain said, covering for his twitching mouth with a nod and a cool smile.  

“Reynolds,” Badger said, with a grin that clearly revealed that yes, Mal hadn’t been hallucinating back at Greenleaf, he really had had something done to his teeth. “I must say, this is a surprise. You usually don’t come out a’ead on a deal like this. Gettin’ tagged or stabbed is more your style. Still, I ain’t complainin’. Profit is profit.”  

“Nice t’ see you’re still as unfit for decent society as ever, Badger” Mal said with false sincerity.  

River made an exasperated sound from on top of the cargo.  

“Still actin’ like little boys playin’ soldier,” she said, and this time Jayne wasn’t even a little surprised by the Dyton accent. “Got real guns now, and real troubles t’ go with ‘em.”  

Badger looked up and smiled delightedly.  

“Little witch!” he said. “Good to see you again.”   

“We may be warlords fightin’ for survival on the edge o’ bleedin’ civilization,” River said, sliding down off the crates and stalking over to Badger, “But we’re the ones who’re smart enough t’ stop fighting each other when we’ve got shared interests.”  

“You tell ‘im that, love,” Badger said, nodding at Mal, who was looking rather cross.  

River turned her head to look at the captain.  

“‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend,’” she said in her normal voice.  

Mal looked, if possible, even crosser.  

“He started it,” growled with uncharacteristic petulance.  

River gave Mal an almost perfect copy of his own ‘I-am-in-ruttin’-charge-here, don’t-mess-with-me’ look. Mal sighed.  

“Don’t know why you wanna be messin’ with five years a’ perfectly good mutual loathin’,” he muttered, stepping forward and holding out his hand to Badger. “Hello Badger, good t’ see you. I got a valuable cargo I need you to help me sell.”  

Badger took the taller man’s hand and shook it firmly, his eyes crinkling with amusement.  

“‘Ello, Malcolm,” he returned. “Congratulations on a job well done.”  

After that, the exchange proceeded smoothly enough, and soon Badger’s men were loading the last of the pallets onto the flatbed while Badger handed over the coin to Mal.  

“So, where are you ‘eaded next?” Badger asked.  

“We got us a job out Georgia way,” Mal said noncommittally.  

Clearly this whole allied warlords thing only went so far in his mind, since he wasn’t offering the name of the planet their batshit crazy plan was taking them to next.  

“You got a cargo, or are you lookin’?” Badger asked.  

“Could take some odds and ends,” Mal said, feigning disinterest. “Why, you got somethin’ needs movin’?”  

“Not myself, no,” Badger said. “But I know a man as does a good bit a’ business in the Georgia System an’ ‘as been ‘avin’ some transit issues. If you’d like, I can give ‘im a call.”  

“On commission?” Mal asked.  

Badger shrugged and smiled.   

“Two percent,” he said. “Barely worth mentioning.”  

“Sounds reasonable,” Mal said. “We should be leavin’ some time tomorrow, your man wants t’ get in touch.”  

Badger tipped his hat and was turning to go when River stepped in front of him. Badger’s eyes widened, because she had one of her knives out and was frowning at him in a ferocious sort of way. However, before he could call in the cavalry, she reached out and cut that pitiable string of a neckcloth he was still sporting off his neck, casting it aside it with a disgusted expression.  

“Not a bleedin’ dancing bear,” she said. “Don’t need to imitate them as think they’re better’n you. And soap and water work just fine, love, no call for a man t’ go suffocatin’ ‘isself.”  

Badger relaxed and let out a laugh.  

“Thank God,” he said. “Thought that stuff’d be th’ death of me.”  

“Princess is wakin’ up,” River said, looking up into Badger’s eyes.  

“That she is,” Badger said, his face unusually solemn. “I owe you a debt, little witch. You were right”  

River smiled.  

“Tell her that you got the answer from a pirate’s soothsayer,” she said. “She’ll like that.”  

Badger smiled back.  

“I’ll do that,” he said. “And when she’s on ‘er feet again, I’ll ‘ave your crew come see ‘er, let ‘er meet some real pirates for ‘herself.”  

Then he kissed River softly on the cheek before walking back to his mule whistling. Mal and Jayne watched him go with identical expressions of horror on their faces.  

“We’re gonna be makin’ a social call on Badger’s lady-love some time in th’ future?” Mal choked as the mule drove away.  

“River-girl, you’re gonna need t’ wash your face,” Jayne growled. “No knowin’ where that greasy  _húndàn’s_ been.”  

“Not greasy anymore,” River corrected. “Took your advice. Bathed.”  

Neither Mal, nor Jayne knew  _what_  to say to that.  

  

***  

  

River wasn’t certain of the exact moment when Mal wandered out of the circle of light and got lost in the woods. One moment, all three of them were gathered together around the campfire, warming their hands at the blaze that their odd little family had made to keep back the night. The next, only she and Jayne were sitting in the light and the captain was wandering alone in the darkness.  

 _You’re lost in the woods. We all are, even the captain. The only difference is, he likes it that way…_   

 _The only difference is,_ _th_ _’ woods are the only place I can see a clear path._ [3]  

She tried to find him, went up to the bridge to bring him back, but his thoughts screamed at her:  _I_ _ain’t_ _no_ _better’n_ _him, takin’ what I_ _ain’t_ _got no right to with no thought to what’s best for her. Way she looked after he kissed her… I should never a’ touched her. Jayne neither. Thought what happened proved she could say no, but just_ _‘cause_ _she could say no ‘t him don’t mean she could say no t’ us._ _Girl’d_ _probably do anything t’ keep from_ _losin_ _’ any more family, even things she don’t want to. We’re all she has in_ _th_ _’ ‘verse and we took advantage a’ her._   

“Come back,” she said. “Come back where it’s warm. Come back where it’s safe.”  

He turned and smiled at her, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.  

“Hey there, little one,” he said. “You need anythin’?”  

Guilt so loud and thick, it made her very bones hurt. She stared at him in horror, then turned and fled.  

Jayne was cleaning his girls in the mess and he looked up as she flew into the room, but she couldn’t stop. She had to get away, away from the guilt, but they were in the black and there was nowhere to run.  

  

***  

  

They were two days out from Persephone when everything went all to hell.  

Jayne was at the table cleaning Betty— a little cousin of Vera’s that he’d picked up a year back, a Callahan selective-fire single-gauge— when River tumbled into the room on her way out of the bridge. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but she was gone again before he could say a word.  

Jayne looked after her, frowning, then got to his feet and went to go see what had spooked her so bad.  

Turned out it wasn’t hard to figure out, even for an insensitive  _dànǎo_ _de_ _shǐ_ like him. Mal had that look on him, the bad look, the one he got when he was in that dark place in his head and couldn’t find his way out.  

Still, it was worth finding out exactly what had happened. After all, River had dealt with Mal in the dark place before— right before Inara and Book left came immediately to mind— and had never seemed this freaked out.  

“Captain,” he said, “What’sa matter with River?”  

“Don’t rightly know, Jayne,” Mal said.  

His voice was calm, but it had that piece missing, the piece that indicated he was thinking and feeling like a normal person.   

 _Mā_ _de_. [4] Not good.  

“‘Sjust, she came outa here like she were a bat and th’ bridge were hell,” Jayne pressed on, pretty sure that it was foolish, but not knowing what else to do.  

“She has cause, I reckon” Mal said flatly, leaning forward and flipping a (totally unnecessary) switch. “I ain’t been lookin’ out for her as I should.”  

Annnnd there it was. Mal’s thousand-mile stare, the one that meant a whole world of hurt for everybody.  

G _ǒu_ _shǐ_ _,_ _tā_ _mā_ _de,_ _hé_ _sǐ_. [5] This was not good at all.  

“I’m gonna go find her, make sure she’s okay,” Jayne said, practically diving for the door.  

But he couldn’t find her. She’d done that thing where she hid in the walls, and, since Mal always said that even  _he_ didn’t know all the little nooks and crannies on  _Serenity_ , locating her was a hopeless proposition.  

When she didn’t show up at mealtime, Jayne began to get agitated. Mal didn’t say anything, but his expression was as bleak as St. Alban’s in wintertime.   

To Jayne’s great relief, she appeared in his bunk at bedtime, sliding down the ladder and burrowing her body against his as though she was freezing and he was the only heat source to be had. When he put his arms around her, she was trembling.  

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” he murmured, rubbing her back gently.  

“Wrong, did wrong,” River mumbled. “Shouldn’t have looked, shouldn’t have touched. Committed sin. Darkness and hellfire and the dead crying out in agony.”  

“Fuck!” Jayne said, forgoing the Chinese for once. “You listenin’ on Mal,  _bǎobèi_?”  

“ _Mal,_ ” she murmured into his chest. “ _Bad. In the Latin_.” [6]  

“River-girl, you know how broody Mal gets sometimes,” Jayne said helplessly. “You can’t be payin’ him no mind.”  

“My fault,” River said, starting to sniffle. “Thought I could help, didn’t do it right. Guardian Angel failed, now heaven will burn.”  

She started crying in earnest, and try though he might, Jayne couldn’t comfort her. In the end, he had to bring her down to the cargo bay and spar with her— something they’d been trying to do every day or so since the  _New Frontier_ — until they were both bruised, sweaty, and exhausted before he could get her to sleep.  

The next day it only got worse. Mal still wasn’t talking to anybody and by midday, River had gone silent as well. That night, she crawled into his bunk, curled up in a ball, and just cried silently for what seemed like forever.  

He’d had enough.   

The next morning, he tracked Mal down in Shuttle Two (where he was fiddling with something Jayne was sure he didn’t ought to be), and confronted the problem at the source, because, gorramit, this couldn’t go on.  

  

***  

  

The lights in Shuttle Two had been on the blink for a while now, but they hadn’t gotten around to fixing them on account of they weren’t using Shuttle Two a lot and the electricals in the shuttles were damned fussy. Mal really shouldn’t have been messing with them at all, properly speaking, since the last time he’d gotten into the wiring in one of the shuttles, he’d taken the whole power system offline, but he’d wanted something to do where nobody would come across him.  

Of course, Jayne showed up twenty minutes after he started, glowering like a bear who’d gotten into a bees’ nest.

“Mal,” the big man growled, “Get your ass outa there and come with me.”  

Mal slid himself out from under the shuttle’s main console to glare at Jayne.  

“Are you givin’ orders on my boat?” he asked dangerously.  

Jayne made a frustrated sound.  

“Don’t you try an’ pull that with me, Mal,” he said quietly. “Now, you gonna come, or am I gonna have t’ make you?”  

There was a look about him that Mal had only ever seen once before, when they were getting ready to make their final stand on Mr. Universe’s moon, an ‘if-I’m-gonna-to-go-down, I’m-gonna-ruttin’-well-make-it-worth-it” look.  

Mal pulled himself to his feet and folded his arms, chin out.  

“What th’ hell is this, Jayne?” he demanded.  

“I’ll ruttin’ well show you what this is!” Jayne roared.  

Then he did something Mal had always known he could do, but had never seen him to actually do: Jayne used his brute strength to overpower him. Jayne grabbed him by the collar, pulled his gun hand up behind his back to the point where the shoulder was almost coming out of the socket, and physically forced him out of the shuttle. Mal might not be a weak man, but he found he couldn’t do a thing except go where Jayne said.  

“ _Are you outa your_ _gorram_ _mind_?” he hissed.  

“No, captain, you are,” Jayne snarled back, manhandling him to the railing of the catwalk. “Look!  _Look_!”  

Mal looked down into the cargo bay and saw River sitting on one of the wooden crates from Badger’s contact, knees up, head bent, still as a statue.  

“She’s been sittin’ like that for  _hours_ , Mal,” Jayne said. “Now, I don’t know  _what_ has gotten your head all twisted up, but you gotta get it straightened out  _now_ , ‘cause I ain’t seen her hurtin’ this bad since Miranda.”  

Mal’s gut twisted viciously. Ever since they had sent Jack packing, Mal had been thinking about River and about the way she looked after that  _dīxià_ _xiǎo_ _chóng_ [7] had kissed her. At first he’d felt guilty that he hadn’t stopped it from happening in the first place, but then he’d got to thinking about whether it had been so much different from what he’d let happen between her and Jayne or her and him. The conclusion he’d come to hadn’t been a pleasing one.  

And now there she was, sitting motionless and broken, proving that he had let her down her in the worst way possible.  

“I failed her,” Mal said.   

“Damn right you did!” Jayne said, letting Mal go with a final shove. “Now  _fix it_!”  

“How, Jayne?” Mal asked, the bitterness inside him finally spilling out. “Goin’ back in time before we took advantage a’ her trust? Or maybe doin’ what the Alliance did, messin’ with her brain ‘til she don’t remember us…  _usin_ _’_  her?”  

“ _Mā_ _de_ ,” Jayne swore. “ _That’s_ what she’s been mutterin’ about. You went and got yourself all fire and brimstone over sexin’ her, didn’t you? Go _ram_ it, Mal! We’re  _married_ t’ th’ girl, ain’t no sin in doin’ what married folks do. And it ain’t like she don’t want it,  _she’s_ th’ one as made it happen!”  

“She didn’t have a choice!” Mal yelled back.   

“ _Bullshit_!” Jayne yelled back. “‘Course she had a choice! Everything since th’ day we got hitched has been her choice! This ain’t about her, Mal, this is about  _you_ , about whatever’s in your head as makes you all guiltified when you get t’ feelin’ too good!”  

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Mal’s brain was a dark haze of rage and self-accusation and despair and he didn’t quite know whether he wanted to end Jayne or end himself. Then River’s voice cut across the chaos, drifting up low and clear from the cargo bay.  

“ _Half a million bodies rotting in the sun. Failed them. Fail everyone. Her too. Betrayed her trust. Can’t take care of her, can’t take care of anyone._ ”  

Mal’s blood was pure ice at this point, and Jayne’s face had lost all its color, leaving him an unhealthy yellowish gray.  

“ _Tián_ _fú_ ,” the mercenary breathed. “Serenity? Is that what this is about?”  

Mal didn’t know what to say. River, however, didn’t seem to be having that problem.  

“ _Man’s got no right to happiness after that_ ,” she went on. “ _Two thousand soldiers_ _followin_ _’ my orders and I got near all of ‘_ _em_ _all killed. Every single one of ‘_ _em_ _had their own hopes and fears. Every single one of ‘_ _em_ _had loved ones they_ _ain’t_ _never_ _gonna_ _see again. Why should I have what they can’t_?”  

Jayne swallowed hard and Mal closed his eyes. He more or less knew what went on in the blackest corners of his soul, but hearing it spoken out cold and clear like that…   

Forget Shepherd Book’s special hell. He was already living in hell, a hell of his own making.  

Jayne’s voice cut through his thoughts, hard and direct as a bullet going through flesh.  

“Listen here, you  _yúchǔn_ _de_ _húndàn_ ,”[8] he said. “I weren’t at th’ Battle a’ Serenity, so I don’t know what it was like. I don’t reckon you had a chance in hell a’ savin’ anybody, but I could be wrong. No matter, you need t’ carry that, that’s your business. What I do know is, we done fought another battle since then, and we fought it for River. The Alliance wanted her back, and you brought hell down on ‘em to save her. And you did. You may a’ failed every gorram one a’ those poor bastards at Serenity Valley, but you didn’t fail her. And what’s more, you ain’t gonna, ‘cause I’m gonna make gorram sure you don’t. So come on!”  

Jayne chivvied a stunned Mal down the stairs to the cargo bay, where he left the captain standing in a daze and went to crouch in front of River.  

“Hey there,” he said gently.  

“Did it wrong,” she whispered, looking up at him with huge, haunted eyes. “Tried to make the ‘verse balance, but it all fell down.”  

“You didn’t do nothin’ wrong,  _bǎobèi_ ,” Jayne said firmly. “Mal just got his head stuck somewheres th’ suns don’t shine is all. It happens, not your fault. Now c’mere.”  

He held out his arms to her and she slid off the crate into them. He stood, cradling her against his chest, and walked back over to Mal.  

“Now,” he said, “Like I said, you can be as tortured about that gorram valley as you want. Don’t reckon it bothers her, since she’s been livin’ with you that way all these years. But just you remember, River weren’t there and you didn’t fail her. River was at Miranda, and you saved her. But you ain’t done. She still needs you.”  

With that, Jayne stepped forward and dumped an armful of tiny, crazy genius unceremoniously into Mal’s arms. Mal caught her instinctively and looked down. She looked back at him with those heartbreaking eyes.  

“Sorry, so sorry,” she said. “Made a mistake, don’t know what it was. Too many variables, too many possibilities. Let Camelot burn, let it fall… sorry, so sorry, so so sorry.”  

She buried her face in his shoulder and he felt hot tears soaking through his shirt.  

“Near as I can tell, she thinks she did somethin’ or didn’t do somethin’ and that’s what got you all twistified about bein’ with her,” Jayne said. “Don’t think I need t’ tell you that th’ first thing you need t’ do is convince her that none a’ this is her doin’.”  

Then he turned around and walked away, leaving Mal holding a crying River.  

“There now, little one,” Mal said helplessly. “‘No need for all that. Jayne’s right— seems he’s developin’ a regular talent that way, which is damned disconcerting. You ain’t done nothin’ wrong, darlin’, I’m just a mean, dumb old captain, like I’m always tellin’ Kaylee.”  

“Lost in the dark woods,” River said, her voice muffled in his shirt. “Mother looked away for a moment, and when she turned back, the little boy was gone. Tried to find him, bring him back home, but the woods were too deep, too thick, couldn’t find him. Should have…”  

“Hey, hey,” Mal said, hitching her up a little higher and heading for the passenger lounge. “Ain’t your doin’,  _ài_ _rén_. Those woods were there long before you came. Ain’t your job t’ pull me out when I get lost in ‘em.”  

“Went in because of me,” River said as they left the cargo bay and Mal descended the steps into the lounge. “Forgot I was a girl. Made me a symbol, like the Shepherd’s book. I should have seen, should have reminded you.”  

“Reminded me a’ what, darlin’?” Mal asked, settling himself on the couch.   

River burrowed deeper into his arms, her dark head tucked beneath his chin, and he breathed in the familiar smell of her hair.  

“Not a broken puppet,” River murmured. “Don’t just dance when someone pulls the strings. A person, actual and whole, created out of dust and given free will, for good or evil.”  

“I know you’re a person, darlin’,” Mal said. “But just ‘cause you’ve got free will don’t always mean you got choices t’ go with it. Lotsa people in th’ ‘verse as get stuck with a bad lot ‘cause they ain’t got nothin’ but bad options t’ choose from.”  

River pulled back and looked up at him, her tearstained face pulling into an expression that said ‘really?’  

“Said the words, but didn’t understand them,” she said. “Why does  _Serenity_ stay in the sky, Mal? Ship that should fall down, still flying in the black. Why?”  

“‘Cause we take care a’ her,” Mal said. “We know what makes her happy and can tell when she’s hurtin’. Give her what we’ve got, and if she needs somethin’ we can’t find, we figure out somethin’ else as’ll do.”  

River smiled at him wistfully.  

“River.  _Serenity_. They are the same,” she said. “Handsome Hero saw, but didn’t comprehend. Tried to charm them both, thought he could get them to do what he wanted with flattery and kind words. But they knew, knew what was missing, knew he didn’t care about them. Knew because they had you to show them.  

“River, you know I don’t think on you th’ same way I think on  _Serenity_ ,” Mal said. “You ain’t— she ain’t— that is t’ say, we call  _Serenity_ ‘she,’ like any ship, but she ain’t…”  

River’s face took on an impish expression.  

“Never had the urge to get biblical with the bulkheads, captain?” she said with a giggle.  

“ _Yú_ _zhǐjiǎ_ ,”[9] Mal said. “You’re a right little  _tā_ _èmó_ ,[10] sayin’ things like that.”  

But he found himself smiling.  

“Made you smile,” River said with a grin. Then she sobered. “Didn’t know, not really,” she said. “Only guessed. Plan would have worked even if you saw River the same way you saw  _Serenity_. Different kind of love, that’s all. But I’m glad it worked out this way.”  

Mal drew in a sharp breath, then let it out slowly.  

“You sure about that, little one?” he asked. “Jayne and I, we ain’t th’ kinda men you deserve. You should have someone smart, someone educated, someone as can walk into a fancy party without causin’ scandal and mayhem.”  

“Lucky the choice wasn’t yours then, you’d have made it wrong,” River said with a toss of her head. Then her face grew earnest. “I’m a witch, Mal, like Badger says,” she said. “Was even before they took me apart and played with the pieces. Witches aren’t welcome at the ball any more than thieves, are never going to dance with the prince. Know too much, see too much, can do too much— dangerous and frightening. Part of the reason they sent me away: knew that I would never fit into the fairy tale.”  

“Your folks, you mean?” Mal asked. “They sent you t’ the Academy ‘cause you didn’t fit in?”  

“Knew I was meant for something else,” River said, “Just didn’t know what, got it wrong. But then  _ge_ _ge_ rescued me and we both got a different story. Not a fairy tale, a witch’s tale: magic and mystery, misdeeds and gunplay, pirates and monsters. Princes won’t marry witches, know it’s against the rules, but pirates… pirates break the law.”  

Mal found himself smirking.  

“Guess we do at that,” he said. “Still, coulda found someone a little closer t’ your own age. I may not quite be old enough t’ be your pa, like that  _chǔn_ _dàn_ off th’  _Cortez_  said, but I’m a whole helluva lot older’n you. Jayne too.”  

“Would you trust a boy to fly  _Serenity_?” River asked, wrinkling her nose. “May work just shiny, but we’re both damaged. Need a careful hand, not a stupid young  _zhǔ_ [11] who doesn’t think, just does.” Her face grew sad. “Besides,” she said, “They made me older. Used to be a yellow sun, like everyone else, burn for 10 billion years, but they went inside and turned up the heat. Made me burn brighter, but that means I will burn out faster.”  

Mal felt his stomach flip unpleasantly.  

“What they did at the Academy,” he said, making sure he understood it right. “It shortened your life?”  

River shrugged.  

“Not by a lot,” she said. “Will probably see the end of your lifecycle, but maybe not Simon’s or Kaylee’s.”  

“Damn,” Mal said. “Just when I think I’ve figured out everythin’ I want t’ hold those  _húndàns_ accountable for, somethin’ new comes along.”  

“A wise man said that the best revenge is living well,”[12] River said. “Between the three of us, we could exact some powerful vengeance.”  

Mal found himself laughing, a proper laugh from deep down inside.  

“Alright, little Albatross,” he said. “Guess you made your point. I’ll try t’ remember it, next time I get my head all tangled up.”  

River smiled happily, then pulled her face into an exaggerated pout.  

“The pirate has caused his witch distress,” she said. “Must appease her, or she may decide to curse him.”  

“Oh really?” Mal said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And just how does a pirate appease his witch?”  

“Kisses are acceptable offerings,” River said loftily, “As are expressions of admiration.”  

“Well then,” Mal said, adjusting her in his lap and brushing her hair back from her face, “Guess I better get on that, my beautiful, genius witch.”  

Then he buried his fingers in her hair and and brought her mouth to his.   

It was a surprising amount of time later when River drew back, an expression of frustration on her face.  

“Multiple processes happening in parallel, timing is  _not_ optimal,” she said. At Mal’s questioning look, she clarified. “Course correction.”  

“‘Salright,  _xuǎn_ _nǚ_ ,”[13] he said. “One a’ the advantages a’ not dealin’ with a ‘stupid young  _zhǔ_ ’: I know how t’ wait.”  

They got up off the couch and headed up the stairs. When they got to the mess, they found Jayne adjusting the loading mechanism on one of his Callahans, the part and a tiny screwdriver in his big hands and the rest of the gun spread out on the table in front of him. He looked up when they came in and ran his eye over them critically.  

“You two sort yourselves out?” he asked.  

River stepped lightly over to Jayne and placed a kiss on his cheek.  

“True hero,” she said, “Found his missing family, brought them home.”   

She skipped on towards the bridge while Mal remained standing awkwardly in the doorway.  

“Thank you, Jayne,” he said, nearly biting his tongue as he said the unfamiliar phrase.   

“You’re welcome, Mal,” Jayne said with a surprisingly easy smile. “Weren’t no big deal. Reckon you’ll end up doin’ th’ same for me, next time I get my ass mixed up with my head.”  

“Reckon I will,” Mal agreed, then turned and headed back towards Shuttle Two.  

With any luck, he hadn’t messed up those electricals so bad he was going to have to get River in there to fix it.  

  

***  

  

“Why,” Jayne growled at River, yanking ferociously at the neck of his purloined suit and looking up at the big, white-pillared mansion they were about to sneak into, “Do I gotta be here? Ain’t fancy shindigs Mal’s thing?”  

“Captain cannot be trusted at a ball,” River replied absently, most of her attention focused on the way Jayne’s jacket fit him across the shoulders. “Will get confused, turn it into a swordfight, cause all manner of delays. Besides, parties make the oceans roar. The Albatross will need her island if she wishes to listen to what she has come to hear.”  

Although River’s reasoning was sound, Mal had a strange suspicion that she had insisted that she needed  _both_  of them to this meet-and-greet because she liked the way they looked in evening wear.   

When they had stopped on Boros to deliver their cargo, they had taken the opportunity to do something Mal would never have imagined doing in his wildest and most fevered dreams: they had knocked over a fancy clothing store.   

It had made sense. They needed to attend a big-ticket party on Ithaca that was being hosted by one of the Georgia System’s oldest and most powerful crime families, the Kaverins, and they needed clothing suitable for the occasion. But breaking into a high-end  _atelier_  (River’s word) in the dead of night in order to try on suits and dresses had been a surreal experience. It had been made even more bizarre by River’s obvious appreciation for seeing both of them in fancy dress. Her eyes had gotten very big and she’d bitten her lips positively red, blushing the whole time. It had been adorable— not to mention all kinds of good for the ego— but Mal still didn’t understand why she found the sight of them trussed up like confused penguins so attractive. However, Mal couldn’t really blame her, since when she had put on her dress, neither man had even remembered what they were wearing.  

They were faring even worse tonight. The dress was a long, sparkly black thing with a modest enough neckline, but a jaw-droppingly low back. She had put on heavy eye makeup and blood red lipstick to go with it, and she looked incredibly elegant, but in a much more visceral and approachable way than when she’d played the companion for Li. Mal found her all kinds of sexy and distracting this way, but he wasn’t suffering nearly as badly as Jayne. He could tell that, whatever the high-society look did for him, this look did for Jayne. The man’s pupils hadn’t quite been normal size since they left  _Serenity_.   

With an effort, Mal pulled his brain back to the task at hand.  

“You got a mark for me, darlin’?” he asked River gruffly.  

River’s kohl-lined eyes rose reluctantly from Ma suit-clad chest and lost focus for a moment. Then she lifted one delicate arm and indicated a tall man with bad posture and a bald spot.  

“Hyperopia and vainglory _,_ ” she said, already getting distracted again.  

Mal just looked at her. River sighed and halfheartedly tried again.  

“Each blind man describes the elephant differently, but a man who can see will not know what animal any of them are talking about,” she said.  

Mal gave up.  

“Never mind,” he said. “Be right back.”  

He moved across the grave drive, which was full of guests in the process of alighting from various fancy skiffs, skimmers, and hovercraft, towards the gentleman in question. He was talking to another man in a prodigious hat. As he drew closer, he finally understood why River had chosen this fellow, since both he and his companion were blinking owlishly at each other, both clearly too far in denial that their eyesight was going to go get the problem seen to. Neither one would be able to recognize him five minutes from now.  

Mal sidled up to them and stood just behind the balding fellow’s left shoulder. When a fat woman in a furry coat came by, he gave a courteous, “‘Scuse me, ma’am,” and stepped back, knocking into his mark. He turned around and caught the fellow before he could fall.   

“Whoops!” he said. “Sorry sir!”  

He set the man back on his feet, straightening the fellow’s jacket, and slipped back into the crowd while he was still squawking indignantly. River and Jayne were having gorram eye-sex in the shadow of a fancy tree and he produced the high-tech invitation disc he’d taken off the man he just knocked over.  

“Ladies and menfolk, we have us our ticket in,” he said.  

The three of them moved through the crowd and up the smooth stone walkway to the door of the mansion. Two beefy security guards were standing on either side of the entrance, checking invitations with a scanner. Mal presented their stolen disc and one of the guards scanned it and waved them through. The captain breathed a silent sigh of relief. He hadn’t been one hundred percent certain that they were going to get away with getting three people in on one invite, but apparently, their host wasn’t all that uptight about how many plus-ones a man wanted to bring, or what gender they were.  

“Right,” Mal said as they stepped into lofty marble entrance hall and followed the flow of guests towards the main ballroom, “So we’re lookin’ for Mikhail Volkov. Shouldn’t be too hard to spot, we all saw his picture on the cortex. Just remember, the man does business with Niska, so we need t’ walk soft. No… Jayne! Are you listenin’?”  

Jayne was, it seemed, distracted by the bare skin of River’s back.  

“What Mal?” Jayne asked, not looking at him.  

“Oh for…” Mal said as they entered the ballroom.  

He looked around. The ballroom was grand and, no doubt, in the best of criminal taste, but it was also full of unknown and potentially dangerous people. And, unlike the last party he’d been at, there were no weapons scanners here. Given that most of these people were lawbreakers of one sort or another, they were all likely to be armed.  

“Right, we should spread out and…” Mal trailed off, realizing that now neither Jayne  _nor_  River was paying any attention to him.  

Mal briefly assessed the situation and came to a conclusion that had him questioning his sanity. Gorramit, this was what happened when you started with the shipboard romances.  

“Alright,” he said aloud. “You two need t’ go take care a’ this. Now.”  

“Hmm?” said Jayne, shaking himself and frowning. “What? What’d you say, Mal?”  

Mal sighed.  

“Your eyes are buggin’ outa your head so far you can’t see straight, Jayne,” he said. “Normally I’d tell you t’ grit your teeth and bear it, but our Reader’s too distracted t’ read. So th’ two of you need t’ find a nice quiet corner and get  _un_ distracted so’s we can go about doing our nefarious deeds.  _Dong ma_?”  

“ _Huh?_ ” Jayne asked in slack-jawed disbelief.  

Mal could sympathize. He couldn’t quite believe what he was saying himself.  

“I find you and Jayne  _very_ attractive,” River said, in case Mal had somehow missed her opinion on this subject.  

Mal suppressed the urge to smile. This was serious, damnit! His partners were acting all kinds of unprofessional and putting their criminal enterprise at risk. It was just, River was so damn  _cute_ like this, not to mention, it eased some of his persistent worries about their circumstances to see her so obviously expressing her— ah—  _desires_ , as it were.  

“I can see that, little one,” Mal said. “Go deal with it and get back here. We got us some crime t’ be planned.”  

River nodded.   

“ _Lǐjiě_ , captain,” she said.   

She took Jayne’s hand, and pulled him off in the direction of a door— not, Mal noticed, the one they’d entered through. Mal watched them go, shaking his head, then commenced to scanning the room for their target.   

Mikhail Volkov was a member of another crime family. Like the Kaverins, the Volkovs had been working the Georgia System for several generations, but unlike the Kaverins, they ran weapons as well as drugs and black-market goods. They also did business with Niska, which, while it was a crucial point in River’s plan, did not make Mal a happy man.  

Mal spotted Volkov after a few minutes of discrete searching. He was standing with a group of people at the far end of the ballroom, paying a kind of court to an old guy in a big chair. The arms dealer was a slender, arrogant looking fellow with dark hair and a narrow, toothbrushy kind of mustache. As Mal drew nearer, he recognized the ancient fellow as Nikolai Kaverin, the head of the Kaverin family, who was celebrating his 85th birthday this evening. The Kaverin patriarch was bent and frail, with thinning silver hair and a crabbed hands. His black eyes, however, were razor sharp under his tufted white eyebrows. Beside him stood a formidably beautiful woman with a statuesque figure and gleaming black hair. While Kaverin spoke to the group of people gathered around him, she surveyed the room with eyes that were fully as black and as sharp as the old man’s, leading Mal to suspect that they were related somehow.   

Suddenly, he found he found, to his alarm, that  _he_  was the object of the woman’s piercing scrutiny. He stood very still, eyes locked with hers, unsure whether it would draw more attention to stay put or to make a break for it. Before he could decide, the woman stepped away from the Kaverin and began moving towards him.   

 _Well, this is a fine_ shuǐhú yú nèizàng,[14] he thought sourly.  

“Hello,” she said, stopping directly in front of him and holding out her hand, palm down. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Sasha Kaverin.”  

With an inward sigh, Mal took her hand and brushed his lips over the knuckles, feeling ten kinds of awkward.  

“Pleasure, t’ meet you, Ma’am,” Mal said, letting go of her hand. “Mallory Harbatkin.”   

It was too dangerous to use his own name when he was rubbing elbows with Niska’s associates, so he’d chosen one of his aliases for the evening— the one that  _wouldn’t_ be blown if Jayne decided to start yelling his name in the middle of the job, which he did seem fond of doing.  

“And how are you acquainted with my grandfather, Mr. Harbatkin?” Sasha Kaverin asked, studying Mal with an intense expression he couldn’t quite identify.  

The hair on the back of his neck rose.  

“Can’t say I am, as such,” he said. “Do some work for th’ family on occasion, thought I’d pay my respects.”  

It wasn’t precisely a lie. They’d had a job a few years back, transporting lace, of all things, and their contact had worked indirectly for the Kaverins.  

 _Just hope you_ _ain’t_ _in charge a’_ _th_ _’ guest list for this little to-do, or we are humped_ , he thought while maintaining a polite smile.  

“And what kind of work do you do?” Ms. Kaverin asked with a curve of her wine-red lips.   

Suddenly, Mal was able to place the look on her face. Interest.  

Oh hell.  

 _River,_ _you’n_ _Jayne better be snappy with the_ _undistractifyin_ _’ and get back here double-time_ , he thought nervously.  

Dealing with beautiful, interested women had always been impossible for Mal. He seemed to have a positive knack for doing exactly the wrong thing at the exactly the wrong time. And it wasn’t like he kept making the same mistakes, either. No, in every situation, he managed to find a new and unprecedented way to cause havoc and mayhem. The only exception to this rule seemed to be River, thank God, but she was different. She was a Reader and she was his Albatross, if anyone could overcome his preternaturally bad luck when it came to dealing with the opposite sex, it would be her.   

“Transport and security, mostly,” he said aloud. “Also been known t’ do the odd acquisition, if th’ job’s right.”  

“A man of many talents,” Ms. Kaverin said with another, more definitely sensual smile. “How exciting.” She stepped forward and, with an artfulness that would have put Inara to shame, slipped her hand into Mal’s arm. “My grandfather will be pleased to formally make your acquaintance, Mr. Harbatkin,” she said. “We pride ourselves on our relationship with our business associates.”  

Even Mal, who normally wasn’t much for picking up on subtleties, caught the double meaning in that statement. He smiled as she guided him deftly towards Nikolai Kaverin’s chair, but in his head, he was reciting a more or less constant litany of curses.   

Smooth. How come it never went smooth?  

  

***  

  

Jayne felt like he had gone to sleep and woken up in somebody else’s life. How else could he explain the fact that he was following River through the halls a gorram mansion for no other reason except that she wanted him as much as he wanted her?  

Jayne was used to being exactly what he was in any situation. When he was young, he had been a rough, uneducated kid from a hardscrabble Rim family, all physical strength and hard edges. When he’d left home, he’d been a no-account laborer, dumb muscle that did what it was told. When he’d realized that he had a particular talent for violence and had become a mercenary, he had still been all dumb muscle, but with menace and guns added to the package. In this relatively simple version of the ‘verse, he might find himself at a fancy party, but he wouldn’t be the one wearing a suit and he sure as hell wouldn’t be there with a high-class girl.  

Except here he was with River, the classiest girl he had ever seen, all dressed up, and she wanted him so much the captain had  _ordered_ him to go take care of her so she could concentrate. And, as if that weren’t enough, this wasn’t just some quick fuck in a corner. Well, it was— although, knowing River, she would probably manage to do better than a corner— but it wasn’t a one-time thing. He was  _married_ to the girl.  

As it turned out, River managed  _much_ better than a corner. She’d taken them up a set of side stairs to the second floor and through a door that probably should have been shut, but wasn’t, into another wing of the mansion. Up another set of steps and through a door in a hallway and they were in the grandest bedroom Jayne had ever set foot in— or dreamed of for that matter. He had a startled flash of polished wood, gold leaf, and red velvet before River turned the lock on the door and rose on her toes to press her lips to his.  

Jayne growled into her mouth and lifted his hands to  _finally_ touch the bare back that had been driving him gorram crazy all night. His callused palms on her silky skin elicited a breathy gasp from the gorgeous girl who owned it and she arched into him. He pulled her flush against him, kissing her harder and running his big hands up her spine. Her taste was like the room around them, all luxurious and soft.   

All that decadence had a curious effect on him. Instead of making him soft and careful like his surroundings, it made him even more direct and aggressive than he normally was. He gripped the base of River’s neck hard in his big hand as he kissed her, and when she let out a little moan, he pressed his hips hard into her in response before picking her up and carrying her over to the bed. He set her down— almost threw her, to tell the truth, but not quite, he wasn’t so far gone as all that— and lay his big frame on top of her, trapping her small body beneath his greater size and weight and pushing his tongue into her mouth again.  

He came to his senses when he felt her squirming underneath him. He pulled back, thinking she was struggling, a sharp spike of horror mixing with his arousal.  

“ _Tā_ _mā_ _de_ ,” he swore, looking down at her flushed face and swollen lips with equal parts lust and worry. “Sorry, baby girl, I don’t know what… I didn’t hurt you none, did I?”  

She blinked up at him, the brown of her eyes almost swallowed up in the black of her dilated pupils.  

“Contrasts,” she said, her voice low and hoarse. “Hard and soft. Rough and smooth. Tough and vulnerable. Beauty and the beast, the king and the beggar maid, the princess and the woodcutter’s son. Part of the reason you like me.  Delicate, dangerous, broken, powerful, innocent, sinful. Crazy genius killer girl.”  

Jayne let out a low whine in his throat as she spoke, his hips jerking involuntarily against hers. Apparently, she had his number, because gor _ram_ it, thinking about how tiny and fragile she was and how fast she could kill him always drove him out of his gorram mind.  

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he said— practically groaned— even as he leaned down to kiss her slender throat.   

“To be an animal is not to be inhuman,” River gasped in his ear. “Viciousness comes from man, not from nature. What you want will not hurt me. Want to give as much as to take, to protect as much as to conquer, to worship as much as to master…”   

She broke off with a cry as Jayne, firmly grasping the gist of what she was saying, jerked her dress up, revealing both her smooth thighs and the concealed weapon she had holstered on her right leg, and pushed his fingers into her, hard and smooth. And she was completely right about his wants, because seeing her writhe and gasp beneath him didn’t make him lose control and tear into her like some gorram brute. Instead, it made him slide down her body and bury his face between her trembling thighs and lick and suck until she came calling his name. And, when he realized that he wanted to see her on her knees in that pretty dress with those red lips wrapped around him, he didn’t grab her hair and force her there. He just met her eyes and let her look at what was in his head and decide whether she wanted to do it.  

Her breath hitched and her irises disappeared almost completely. She moved impossibly quick, getting on her knees just like he’d pictured and going for the complicated fastenings on those gorram fancy trousers the moment he was in front of her. He might have thought that she was just reading from his mind what he wanted rather than following her own desires, except the moment she got his pants undone and closed her lips around him, his mind went completely blank. What she was doing— and being in a woman’s mouth had never felt so good, even with the professionals, because even though she didn’t quite know what she was doing, she obviously  _really_ liked doing it, and besides, River learned everything gorram fast— was sure as hell not coming from him.  

She drew it out, working him up, then easing off when it became too much. But there was only so much a man could take, and this was one of those times when being with a Reader really came in handy, because he’d lost the ability to speak words, but he could tell her with his mind what was about to happen, giver her the chance to pull back. Of course, being River, she took him deeper instead, which made him come so hard the world went white for a moment.  

  

***  

  

They were talking politics.  

Mal stood uncomfortably beside Ms. Kaverin, listening to the kingpins of Georgian crime and resisting the urge to blink dumbly. It was damned odd hearing Independent philosophy coming from hardened crime bosses. And that was what he was hearing, no mistake.   

“Why should  _we_ pay to eliminate a threat that  _Parliament_  created?” a tall, gimlet-faced woman dressed in dark purple was saying.  

“Because if we don’t, we will keep losing ships— and settlements,” returned a shorter, slightly less angular woman in rosy frills. “Principle is all very well, but one must be practical. If the Reaver problem continues, we will pay for it anyways.”  

“Remind me why we supported Unification again?” asked a short man in a gaily colored coat.   

“Because a centralized government favors large operations,” Volkov said, effecting a bored expression. “Prices get driven up and bribes get consolidated.”  

“Well, prices are falling and I don’t even know  _who_ to bribe on half the Rim planets anymore,” the gaily colored man said.  

“The Parliament has ceased to serve the people,” Nikolai Kaverin said. “Now it serves only itself. Business such as ours become very difficult under such conditions; it is one thing for a rival operation to have the government in their pocket, but it is hard to compete with an organization that  _is_ the government.”  

“Bloody secretive they are too,” the woman in the rosy frills said. “Honestly, how am I supposed to avoid stepping on their toes when I don’t know what they’re turf is? I nearly lost an entire cargo because the government had moved into that market, but nobody knew it.  _That_ took some fast talking, let me tell you.”  

Mal scratched his face, uncomfortably aware that he had had a hand in making these people aware of both Parliament’s involvement in the Reaver problem and their general tendency to keep secrets. Ms. Kaverin, who had been watching him intently throughout the conversation, decided to take this moment to draw him into the conversation.  

“What is your experience of the current political climate, Mr. Harbatkin?” she said. “I imagine that it is much different to be the person actually handling the goods.”  

She had introduced him to the group as being in charge of one of the Kaverin’s courier services, which suited Mal as much as anything could, considering he would have preferred not to be here at all. However, until now, everyone had been content to ignore him, although Nikolai Kaverin had been considering him thoughtfully even as he attended to the conversation.  

“Reckon it ain’t much different now than it was years back when some fools put on brown coats and lost the war for independence,” he said. “Far as most of us on th’ Rim are concerned, Parliament ain’t never done much for us ‘cept plant a heel on our necks and blame us for their stupidity.”   

“Really?” Nikolai Kaverin said with interest. “Tell us.”  

Mal cursed his mouth. Sometimes he couldn’t resist running it any more than Jayne.  

“Few years back, my crew came across a settler’s ship as was hit by Reavers,” he said with an inward shrug. “Alliance found us pullin’ a survivor off th’ boat. Told ‘em what had happened, but they didn’t wanna hear about Reavers. Decided t’ say we killed those folk, never mind that we was in an unarmed transport vessel without th’ firepower or th’ gunhands you’d need t’ take down a ship that big, supposin’ we had been so inclined. Came back on ‘em, though. Fellow we rescued, he started killin’ their crew as soon as they brought him on the cruiser. I told ‘em before they took him off our ship what he’d seen and what he’d likely do about it, but since they were set on not believin’ in Reavers, they weren’t too keen on believin’ a man’d try t’ turn himself int’ one until the body count started t’ rack up.”  

There was a collective shudder.  

“Why did you rescue him?” asked an anemic looking fellow in a tasteful Chinese jacket. “If you suspected what he’d do, why didn’t you leave him there?”  

Mal shrugged.  

“Should have,” he said, “But I guess I couldn’t stomach the idea a’ leavin’ him on that ship t’ rot. Bullet t’ the head seemed more merciful, it came t’ that.”  

“A curious level of scruples for a man in your line of work, I would have thought,” said Volkov with a condescending curl to his mustached lip.  

Mal glanced at Volkov with a distaste he didn’t much bother to hide.  

“I have an attack of ‘em from time t’ time,” he said, folding his arms. “Guess you can blame the Alliance. They’d a’ left well alone, I probably woulda kept to honest work instead a’ contaminating th’ criminal element with my compunction.”  

There was laughter at this, but Mal noticed that Nikolai Kaverin did not join in. He continued studying Mal with his sharp black eyes, a small smile on his wrinkled face.  

 _C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,_ Mal thought impatiently. _Where_ _th_ _’ hell are you guys?_   

  

***  

  

Jayne stepped out the door after River, closing it quietly behind him.   

They’d straightened themselves up in the bedroom’s private bath, though conveniently, the particular activities they’d engaged in didn’t leave a whole lot of evidence beyond some mussed hair and lipstick marks, which were easy enough to fix. They were presentable enough for company, so long as nobody looked too close at River’s neck. His beard had scratched her tender skin, leaving a delightful rosy redness where he’d kissed.   

Jayne expected them to go back the way they had come, but River had stopped in the hallway, head cocked, ‘listening.’ He barely had time to curse inwardly before she was heading off in the opposite direction, her movements quick and agitated. Jayne followed, wishing for the millionth time or so that it wasn’t so gorram hard for her to explain what she heard to a dumb hump like him.  

“All plankton are the same when the whale comes among them,” River remarked absently as she led them around a corner and up three steps into a kind of atrium with a pool in the middle and huge ferns growing in pots around the edges.  

Jayne was trying to work that out— biggest fish/littlest fish, genius/normal folk, River/the rest of the ‘verse— when River pulled aside one of the giant fern fronds to reveal a tiny, startled figure crouching behind the pot.   

The kid couldn’t have been more than three. She was a skinny little bit of a thing with fine dark hair, big black eyes, and pink footie pajamas. She stared up at them, startled and obviously frightened, and opened her mouth to yell. Jayne went down on one knee and hastily clapped one big hand over the kid’s mouth before she could give them away.  

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, “Calm down, kid. Not gonna hurt ya.”  

The child stilled and looked up at him with interest. River, meanwhile, was studying the little girl intently.  

“Nanny is acting wrong,” she said solemnly, looking into the kid’s eyes. “Need Mama to make everything better.”  

At the word ‘Mama,’ the kid’s enormous eyes welled up and, instinctively, Jayne scooped her up with his free arm, hand still over her mouth, and pulled her close to his body. He had enough little brothers and sisters to know that, when a kid started crying for Mama, a body had better cuddle it for all he was worth and go find it’s Ma double quick, before the ‘verse came down around his ears.   

He needn’t have bothered with silencing the little tyke, because apparently she wasn’t a bawler. As soon as he had her against his chest, she curled into him and started sobbing in quiet little whimpers. Jayne removed his hand cautiously, reluctant to alert the house if the little girl changed her mind about yelling, but worried that she wouldn’t be able to breathe once her itty-bitty nose stuffed up. He looked up at River.  

“We need t’ be worried?” he asked, keeping his voice low.  

The kid seemed to like the rumble of his voice, because she burrowed deeper into his chest.  

“Danger walks on quiet feet,” River said, staring at the child with an odd expression. “Nurture lets in death.”  

She looked confused and kind of sad, and Jayne wanted to know what that was all about, but they had more pressing concerns. ‘Death’ was not a word Jayne wanted to hear tonight, particularly in association with a tiny scrap of a girl wearing pink footie pajamas.   

He rose to his feet, shifting the little bundle of pink flannel so she was resting on his hip with one of his arms under her bum, leaving his gun hand free.   

“Sounds like we better find this kid’s Ma then,” he said.   

With one last undefinable glance at the girl, River nodded and turned away, leading them back the way they had come. Jayne followed, the little girl still snuffling quietly into his jacket, wondering when the hell his life had gotten so strange.  

  

***  

  

If Mal had learned everything from the past few months, it was that, with River, you didn’t just have to expect the unexpected, you had to expect surreal and downright impossible. So when she appeared out of the crowd with Jayne in tow and Mal saw a miniature person in pink jammies clinging to Jayne’s chest like a baby monkey, his blank surprise was tempered with wry resignation.   

The conversation around Kaverin’s chair ground to an abrupt halt as River, Jayne, and the pint-sized monkey joined the group. Jayne looked around narrowly, as though daring anyone to comment on his pink-clad accessory, while River’s eyes flicked from Mal to Volkov to Ms. Kaverin.  

The dark-haired woman was staring at Jayne and the child with surprise and, possibly, a touch of dismay— it was hard to tell, the woman had a boat-load of self-control.   

“Irina?” Ms. Kaverin said.  

The kid lifted her head from Jayne’s chest.  

“Mama!” she cried, holding out her stubby arms.  

Jayne stepped forward and, with an ease that had Mal gaping like a flounder, transferred the kid from his arms to Ms. Kaverin’s before the woman could properly collect her wits.  

“Found her wanderin’ around,” he said, his voice far less gruff and threatening than was normal when he was dealing with strangers. “Soon as she started askin’ for her Mama, knew we’d better get her t’ you before she took th’ house down.”  

The little girl wrapped her arms around Ms. Kaverin’s neck like she was never going to let go and commenced to crying quietly, but copiously.  

“Irina,” Ms. Kaverin said, her social poise obviously being stretched to the limit by worry, confusion, and embarrassment, “What are you doing out of bed? And how in the world did you get out of the nursery?”  

“Nanny gave her the red medicine that tastes bad, but she’s not sick,” River spoke up, her voice clear and precise. “Didn’t want to. Nanny slapped her, told her she’d take it if she knew what was good for her. Didn’t know she had to watch her swallow though. Irina spit the medicine out, ran away when Nanny’s back was turned, went to find her Mama.”  

All eyes turned to River. Ms. Kaverin’s black eyes narrowed.  

“I don’t believe I know you,” she said.   

Mal hastily called River’s alias to the forefront of his mind, silently urging River to remember who they were supposed to be and why they were there.  

“I am Rio Harbatkin,” River said with a regal nod, causing Ms. Kaverin’s glance to shift quickly from River to Mal, her eyes seeking out Mal’s left hand and the wedding band on his fourth finger.  

“Jay Coburn,” Jayne added.  

“Associates of yours, I presume, Mr. Harbatkin?” Ms. Kaverin said coolly, her perfect face hard.  

“Yeah,” Mal said, trying like hell to figure out what was going on and how to get them out of it. “Rio’s my wife and Jay’s— uh— my head a’ security.”  

“I see,” Ms. Kaverin said, turning back to River and Jayne. “And how do you come to be so well informed about my staff— apparently— abusing my child?”  

Jayne broke in.   

“We asked her what she was doin’ out and about when we found her,” he said. “She was chatterin’ about medicine and Nanny and findin’ her Mama. I didn’t rightly understand, but Riv— Rio asked her some questions, figured out what she was talkin’ about.”  

Mal knew that Jayne was lying, that River had actually pulled the story out of the kid’s head. That explanation, however, would get them nothing but a world of trouble.  

They had troubles enough as it was.  

Ms. Kaverin, still eying River and Jayne suspiciously, stepped over to her grandfather and the two of them began a whispered conversation. The rest of the criminal entrepreneurs, meanwhile were eyeing River, Jayne, and Mal speculatively. Volkov sidled over to murmur faux-discretely in Mal’s ear.  

“A word of advice, my friend: if you want to keep that  _xiǎo_ _fēi_ _lì_ [15] to yourself, don’t let her wander into dark corners with your head of security.”  

“And if you want t’ keep your teeth attached t’ your jaw, you’ll watch who you’re callin’ a ‘little filly,’” Mal returned through gritted teeth, even as he silently acknowledged that the abraded skin on River’s neck made it pretty obvious what his partners had been doing wandering the halls of the Kaverin mansion.  

River’s head snapped around, her eyes fixing on Volkov with eerie intensity. He felt the other man stiffen beside him, surprised and taken aback by her keen gaze. There was a beat as River sized their mark up, and Mal could practically see her working out how to pull what she wanted to the forefront of his mind while, at the same time, delivering a withering set-down.  

“Consider your own affairs before passing judgment on others, Mr. Volkov,” she said at last. “If a stranger stood beside you as you conduct your business, what would they see?”  

Volkov flinched and River smiled a small, cold smile. Then her face changed, going tense.  

“Weasels are in the burrow,” she muttered.  

She stepped forward and touched Ms. Kaverin’s arm softly. The regal woman stiffened in outrage, but River’s low, urgent voice forestalled her furious rebuke.  

“No time,” she said. “Cold medicine. Diphenhydramine— drowsiness. Why did Nanny want Irina sleepy?”  

Ms. Kaverin paused, obviously puzzled, but old man Kaverin went instantly on the alert. He lifted his gnarled hands off the arms of his chair and pulled back one sleeve to press the button on his com watch.  

“Sergei,” he croaked, “Send a detail to sweep the nursery wing. At once.”  

The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. All around the little circle of courtiers, hands started reaching for concealed weapons and muttered orders started being passed to security details. Mal and Jayne moved at the exact same time, going to stand beside River, which put them right in front of the three Kaverins.   

“What do you suspect,  _Dedushka_?” [16] Ms. Kaverin asked lowly, holding her little girl tighter against her chest.  

“Mrs. Dragovich is new,” Kaverin said. “If I were Cyril, I would see her as a potential weak link that might be exploited.”  

Ms. Kaverin tensed and nodded.   

Mal looked at River.  

“We got trouble, Albatross?” he asked quietly.  

She nodded, her eyes distant.  

“Fight or run?” Jayne growled, already pushing back his jacket and drawing his sidearm.  

“Too late,” River said. “They’re here.”  

“What did she say?” Ms. Kaverin asked sharply, hitching the child up on her hip and fixing Mal with a stern glare.  

“Ma’am, keep th’ kid behind us,” Mal said, drawing his own gun.  

Ms. Kaverin was about to say something else, but at that moment the doors to the ballroom burst open and twelve black-clad commandos armed to the teeth burst into the room to a chorus of frightened screams.  

“Everybody down!” yelled a lean, balding guy above the noise, raising his repeater and firing a round at the ceiling.  

There was confusion as half the room leapt to obey and the other half weighed their options. The commandos made their position clear when one woman clearly decided that fighting was more her style and drew a piece. One of them shot her in the head.  

She hit the floor and most of the room decided to follow her example under their own steam, except for the group around Kaverin. By the time the rest of the room was under control, they had their weapons out and aimed at the commandos. At that point, two groups of security guards, one from the house door and one from the entrance hall, skidded into the room.  

“Drop your weapons!” snarled one of the security guys, aiming his gun at the leader.  

There was a moment of tense silence, which was eventually broken by Kaverin.  

“Hello Cyril,” he rasped.  

The balding guy laughed.  

“Hello Nikolai,” he said. “Sorry to crash the party, but you and I, we have unfinished business.”  

  

***  

  

Jayne looked around, assessing their situation and deciding he didn’t like it at all. It wasn’t just that they were outgunned, although sidearms against repeaters was definitely not his favorite odds. No, what bothered him was that there were too many wildcards here. It wasn’t just the commandos, security, and the crew of  _Serenity_ involved in this standoff: everyone at this gorram party was potentially armed and on his or her own side.  

That was a lot of bullets to have in play, and no knowing where they were going to be pointed.  

“Your son made his choice, Cyril,” Kaverin said hoarsely, his dark, beady eyes fixed on the tall, thin guy with the grizzled fringe around his ears.  

The old crime boss was sitting rock steady in his chair, twisted hands relaxed, face calm. Eighty-five years of crime had, it seemed, turned the old geezer’s balls to steel.  

“And I made mine,” the thin guy said.  

Then everything went into slow-mo.   

The thin guy swung his gun around to point at Kaverin. The security guards started firing, but the commandos were wearing armor and none of them went down. Instead, they turned their repeaters on the guards and took them out. Meanwhile, Mal yelled, “Cover the kid!” to Jayne, while at the same time seizing Kaverin by the collar and hauling him off his chair. Jayne stepped in front of the woman and the kid, firing as he went, and a mess of bullets hit where the old geezer’s head had been a second before. Jayne hit one of the commandos between the eyes, then heard Mal grunt and River let out a sharp cry.   

He turned and saw Mal kneeling on the ground beside Kaverin, one hand firing his gun, the other pressed to his shoulder. Then there was a blur of black sparkles and pale white thigh, and River was in action.  

The Diāo 7 she was carrying was a puling little thing, short range and no power to speak of. Most people couldn’t have hit anything more than ten feet away with it, but this was River. Without even seeming to look, she fired eleven shots in rapid succession.  

The eleventh commando had a bullet in his thigh before the first even hit the floor.  

The ballroom was deathly silent. River stood in front of Kaverin’s empty chair, gun held by her side, looking like Lady Vengeance herself with her long dress and burning eyes. The commandos were on the floor, some groaning, some quiet, some clearly dead. The guests were all staring at River, unwilling to believe what they were seeing.  

Jayne moved first, holstering his gun and dropping to his knees in front of Mal, pulling the captain’s hand away from his shoulder to assess the damage.  

“ _Mǔqīn_ _tā_ _mā_ _de_ ,”[17] he snarled.  

The hole in Mal’s shoulder was bleeding fast and was located way too close to necessary parts for his liking. Add to that, there wasn’t an exit wound, meaning the bullet was still in there somewhere doing God knew what. Jayne reached up and ripped off the complicated neckcloth he was wearing, pressing the silk hard against the wound.  

Mal let out an agonized breath, but otherwise didn’t move.  

River, her face still set, walked forward, all deadly beauty and lethal grace, to stand above the man called Cyril. He was still alive, gurgling around a throat wound that somehow hadn’t quite killed him, and he stared up at River with fury and confusion on his seamed face.  

“You hurt my crew,” River intoned, staring down at him with those burning eyes. “Shouldn’t have done that.  _Serenity_ defends what is hers. Now  _vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand_.” [18]  

She lifted the tiny Diāo and fired a single shot to the center of his forehead, killing him instantly. She stood there for a moment, gun still raised, then her whole body shuddered and she dropped her arm. She turned to look at Mal and Jayne, her face crumpling.  

“Mal,” she whispered.  

Then she was in motion again, holstering her gun and running back across the room to throw herself down beside them. Her tiny hand pressed against Mal’s chest, tears rolling down her cheeks.  

“Hey, hey, little one,” Mal said, his voice tight with pain, “It’s alright. Just a graze, nothin’ t’ worry about.”  

He reached out with his uninjured hand and drew her against him, ignoring the pain the movement must surely have caused. The Kaverins and their guests were watching the scene play out with the same sort of expressions generally associated with audiences watching a street magician. Jayne, River, and Mal ignored them, although Jayne began running through exit strategies in his head as he continued to apply pressure to Mal’s shoulder.  

“That’s it, no more swanky parties for you captain, ” he said, covering his worry with a smirk and a joke.   

“You may be right,” Mal rasped. “Damn, and I was doin’ so good  _not_  getting shot.”  

 

 

 

[1]Bastard whoreson

[2]Honey badger

[3]From "Serenity"

[4]Oh shit

[5]Shit, fuck, and damn

[6]From "Serenity"

[7]Low-down little worm

[8]Dumb-assed bastard

[9]Fish toenails

[10]She-demon

[11]Stud; leader of the herd

[12]Oft-repeated proverb recorded in George Herbert’s _Outlandish Proverbs, Sentences, &c. Selected by George Herbert_

[13]Glorious girl; magnificent female

[14]Kettle of fish guts

[15]Little filly

[16]Grandpa

[17]Motherfucker

[18]From Shakespeare’s _Titus Andronicus_


	13. Night's Fifth-born Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

Mal found himself on a footbridge in the middle of a pool filled with flowering lotuses. To his left was a blue-roofed pagoda, while to his right the bridge disappeared beneath the trailing branches of a weeping willow.

Mal knew he was dreaming, but wasn’t sure why his dreams had brought to this place. After all, a pleasure garden was not his usual dreamscape. His dreams tended to take place in battlefields or prisons or, if it was a good dream, on _Serenity_ or Shadow.

He turned and began walking slowly along the footbridge towards the weeping willow, pausing when he caught a flash of orange and silver out of the corner of his eye. He looked down into the water and saw a school of koi fish swimming in the green depths. He frowned. The details in this dream were much clearer and more elaborate than he was used to.

He reached the willow and pushed aside the branches. When he saw River sitting on the moss at the base of the tree, he realized the reason this dream felt so strange: it wasn’t _his_ dream.

He stepped off the bridge onto the moss and went to stand beside River. She was sitting with her back against one of the willow’s big, twisty roots, knees drawn up, hair curtaining her face. Her attention was fixed on a large basket sitting in front of her, and Mal glanced inside. To his surprise, he found that it contained an infant, maybe two months old, wrapped in a pink blanket and whimpering fretfully.

“Hey there, _ài rén_ ,” Mal said, crouching down beside River.

He brushed back her hair back and drew in a breath as he got his first good look at her face. Her expression, as she gazed at the whining infant, was one of pure misery.

“Whoa now,” he said. “What’s th’ matter, little one?”

“Baby is crying, can’t pick it up,” she said.

“Why not, darlin’?” Mal asked.

“Death cannot foster life,” River said.

Suddenly, the baby stopped whimpering. Mal looked up and saw Jayne standing beside the basket, holding the baby in his arms. It had stopped whimpering and was smiling up at the mercenary with goofy, toothless gums. Mal turned to look at River, confused, then gave a startled yell. She wasn’t sitting against the tree root anymore. Instead, she was standing beside the water, wearing the dress she’d worn at the Kaverins’. Her hair was loose and wild, her fingernails had become claws, and her hands and mouth were smeared with blood.

“Violent Death, Night’s fifth-born child,”[1]River said. “Sends belligerent souls to Hades after drinking their blood.”

River’s eyes fixed on Jayne, welling up with tears. As Mal watched, a boy, maybe ten years old, ducked into the shade of the willow.

“Dad!” he cried excitedly, running up to Mal and tugging on his sleeve, “Come see!”

Mal automatically started to follow, but then remembered River. He stopped and turned. She was still standing beside the pond, bloodstained and weeping.

“You want this, River?” he asked, gesturing to the baby and the young boy. “You want a passel of young ‘uns underfoot someday?”

River shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said.

“‘Course it matters,” Mal said, ignoring the boy and walking back to stand in front of River. River looked up at him, still crying.

“Not fit, would never be allowed,” she said. “But I shouldn’t take you away from them.” She indicated the baby and the boy. “You have so much to give them and I… men who marry Death do not beget children.”

“ _Mǎ fèn_ ,”[2] Mal said sharply. “You know I don’t hold t’ folk tellin’ a body what it can or can’t do. If you want kids, we’ll give ‘em to you. If you don’t, well, I can’t speak for Jayne, but it’s been a long while since I thought I’d ever be havin’ children, so it ain’t no loss. ‘Sides, if I get a sudden urge t’ change diapers somewheres down th’ road, I’ll wager your brother and little Kaylee’ll be givin’ me more’n enough opportunities ‘fore too long.”

“But I am Death,” River said, her voice catching as she held up her bloody, claw-tipped fingers. “Hands made to kill, not to love.”

“Hey, that ain’t true and you know it,” Mal said, taking River’s face between his palms and tilting it up so he could look into her eyes. “If you’re anything besides plain old River, you’re Serenity. ‘Member what you said about _Serenity_?”

“Savior. Destroyer. Angel,” River said, each word practically echoing as it fell from her lips.

“And why does my angel do all this savin’ and destroyin’?” Mal asked.

River bit her blood-coated lip.

“Love,” she whispered.

“‘At’s right,” Mal said, wiping the tears from River’s cheeks with his thumbs. “You get t’ thinkin’ that, just cause you’ve seen death, you can’t love, you remember this: weren’t no place saw more violence than Serenity Valley, but a little bit a’ love made _Serenity_ a safe haven for those as needed it.”

He made to kiss her, but she whimpered.

“Covered in blood,” she said.

“Shh,” he said. “I’ve seen more blood and death than most folk can well imagine, it stopped frightenin’ me a long time ago.”

He brought his mouth to hers, and she did indeed taste like blood— gorramit, this dream was realistic— but she also tasted like honey and starlight and redemption. As they kissed, River’s dream world dissolved around them and they were left floating in a warm, comfy darkness. However, when Mal looked up, he could see a river of stars flowing endlessly through the black.

He wasn’t sure how long they drifted in the darkness, but gradually he started hearing voices.

“We should move her. The doctor said he needed to rest.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Honey? You need to wake up now. Your husband…”

River jerked in his arms and someone screamed. Mal’s eyes snapped open.

He was lying in bed in a room he didn’t recognize. The bed was huge, the bedspread was gold silk, and the furniture and paintings in the room probably cost more than his ship. He looked around quickly, assessing the situation.

Jayne was sitting in a chair beside the bed. He was still wearing the suit he’d worn to the Kaverins’ party, although he’d taken off the jacket, and he had an unholy smirk on his face. Meanwhile River, who was wearing a drapey green silk robe embroidered with what looked like earth dragons, was sitting up beside Mal, hair wild, one tiny hand locked around the wrist of a very startled Sasha Kaverin.

“Toldja,” Jayne said with satisfaction.

“Jayne? River?” Mal said, trying to make his sluggish brain work.

“Captain!” Jayne said, standing up.

River dropped Ms. Kaverin’s wrist and turned, her dark eyes running over Mal quickly, as though making sure he was all there.

“I’m sorry,” Ms. Kaverin said, backing away hastily, rubbing her wrist. “I didn’t…”

Mal ignored her.

“Jayne,” he said, his voice slurring, “You gotta tell River… her choice whether she wants t’ have kids. We can have our own or spoil Kaylee and th’ doc’s, don’t matter. ‘Sup t’ her. A’right?”

“Whoa, Mal,” Jayne said, looking terrified. “ _Kids_? What th’ hell did that doc give you when he stitched you up last night? You’re talkin’ crazy talk!”

“Her choice,” Mal repeated.

“Medicine sent him wandering the stars,” River said fretfully, “Feet knew the path, led to a familiar dream. Heard that which had not yet been said.”

“ _Shèngjié tā mā de_ ,” Jayne said. “You been doin’ that weird-ass dreamin’ thing again?”

“Tell her,” Mal insisted. “Her choice.”

“Damn right it’s her choice!” Jayne said, still looking panicky. “Ain’t… I ain’t never… It’s not… Where’d this come from alluva sudden, anyways?”

“Lost chick found in the ferns,” River said drawing her knees up and ducking her tangled head, making herself as small as possible on the gold silk bedspread. “Viper couldn’t help, but the jackal did. Viper can’t care for young, not in its nature, but the jackal should have pups of his own.”

“River-girl, there’s a lotta things I can do that I ain’t made a ca-reer out of,” Jayne said. “You know how many little brothers and sisters I have, it ain’t no mystery how I know what t’ do with a little anklebiter. Don’t mean I’m bound and tied t’ havin’ one my ownself.”

“Good,” Mal said, feeling suddenly very sleepy again. “It’s settled. River’s choice. And when all th’ little miniature mechanic-docs come along, Jayne’s th’ first uncle up for babysitting duty.”

Jayne spluttered incoherently, but Mal was already drifting back into unconsciousness.

 

***

 

The next time Mal woke up, Jayne was nowhere to be seen and River was curled up beside him like a cat, fast asleep. His head was a little clearer this time and he could see that, even in sleep, there was a crease between her brows and dark circles under her eyes. Despite her obvious exhaustion, her eyes snapped open the moment she felt his gaze on her.

“Damn, darlin’,” he said softly, wincing at how rough his voice sounded. “You look like hell.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, so I imagine you look better’n me,” Mal allowed. “Still, you don’t look like you’ve had more’n a wink a’ sleep.”

River looked at him solemnly.

“Had to make sure,” she said. “Didn’t want you to sneak off in the night.”

If she hadn’t looked so serious, Mal would have taken this as a dig at his tendency to break out of medical custody, but he could see well enough that that wasn’t what she meant. She was talking about another, more permanent kind of sneaking off.

Mal felt his heart squeeze.

“Sorry t’ worry you, _ài rén_ ,” he said. “Our luck ain’t never been th’ best, has it?”

He shifted and his shoulder gave an almighty jolt of pain. He winced and bit out a curse. River’s face tightened, no doubt Reading his discomfort, but her expression was rueful.

“Probability theory says that, while you will be injured approximately once per 9.921 missions, when you were last hurt has no predictive power when trying to determine when you will be hurt next,” she said. “Laws of luck says it’s better to get it out of the way now, get rid of bad karma.”

Mal couldn’t help laughing, even though it hurt like a _mǔqīn tā mā de_.

“I don’t get hurt _that_ often,” he protested, groaning a little.

River gave him a look and Mal found himself grinning dopily. Somehow, River giving him the ‘you boob’ look reassured him that all was right with the ‘verse. Then her expression changed to ‘listening.’ Mal turned his head immediately to the door, and sure enough, it opened thirty seconds later and Ms. Kaverin entered the room.

She closed the door and looked over at the bed, jumping slightly when she saw Mal and River both watching her silently.

“Oh!” she said. “You’re… that is, I’m glad to see you awake.”

River sat up quietly, not letting go of Mal’s hand. Ms. Kaverin noticed, but didn’t seem to know what to say.

“Glad t’ be so, Ma’am,” Mal said, his voice carefully neutral. “And I’m grateful to you for your hospitality.”

The night before was a bit of a blur, but he remembered that she and her grandfather had ordered that he be taken to the private wing of the mansion and had had their personal physician, who had been a guest at the party, tend to his injury. Whatever the doc had shot him full of had knocked him out pretty quick, though, so he wasn’t sure of all the details.

“It is the least we could do for the man who saved my grandfather’s life, Mr. Reynolds,” Ms. Kaverin said.

Mal stiffened at her use of his real name and River squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“Seems you know a mite more about me than is rightly healthful,” Mal said.

Ms. Kaverin’s face remained smooth, but he detected a nervousness about her perfectly manicured fingers.

“We looked up your idents on the cortex,” she said. “My grandfather knew of you by reputation, and I gather he suspected who you were after our political discussion, but your actions during the… altercation last night confirmed it in his mind. Malcolm Reynolds is known for being… honorable.”

“Some might call it foolish,” Mal said, wondering what this meant for the continued well-being of him and his crew.

“Discretion is a virtue and secrets are powerful,” River said.

Ms. Kaverin looked at River, unsettled.

“We understand that you do not wish to attract the attention of… certain parties,” she said. “Although we are somewhat curious what you were doing here last night, given how closely connected some of our guests are to those who wish you ill.”

“Needed t’ contact a source and wanted t’ meet somewheres public,” Mal said, carefully not quite lying. “Thought it would be safer, if you’ll believe it.”

He quirked his mouth wryly, hoping to distract Ms. Kaverin from the identity of their ‘contact’ with irony. She laughed.

“Sorry for crashin’ your party,” he offered before she could speak again.

“Under the circumstances, I think it is safe to say that your breach of etiquette has been entirely forgiven,” Ms. Kaverin said. “We are most grateful for your assistance and I am sorry that our family’s… difficulties put you in danger.”

River snorted softly.

“Laws of magnetism,” she said. “Captain is positive, danger is negative, attraction is inevitable.”

Mal snorted in amusement and Ms. Kaverin’s eyes flicked uneasily to River. Mal didn’t need to be a Reader to know that the woman was terribly unsettled by this tiny girl who talked strangely and could take down a dozen armed men in less than thirty seconds.

“What River is tryin’ t’ say is, we seem t’ do pretty well at findin’ trouble our ownselves,” Mal said. “No need t’ feel bad on our account.”

“I don’t like it when you get shot,” River grumbled in one of her rare moments of clarity— Mal was beginning to notice that the more urgent and straightforward her feelings were on a subject, the plainer she spoke about it.

“I know, _ài rén_ ,” he said, squeezing her fingers. “Don’t much like it myself.”

River pouted at him for a moment, then her head came up, cocking expectantly.

“Jayne,” she said with a smile.

Mal guessed that she’d ‘heard’ their partner in crime coming, but it was almost a minute before the door actually opened and Jayne entered the room. The former mercenary looked disgustingly energetic and self-satisfied and Mal grimaced. It didn’t seem quite fair for the man to be so chipper when he felt like death warmed over.

“What’s got you so cheerified?” he groused.

“Kaverin’s gonna send us back in one a’ his skimmers, soon as you’re ready t’m move,” Jayne said. “I’m so cheery on account of I thought I was gonna have t’ carry your ass all the way back t’ port.”

Ms. Kaverin, meanwhile, was staring at River with confusion and not a little fear. Mal realized that River had said Jayne’s name way before she could possibly have known he was coming— at least, as far as regular folk were concerned.

“ _Serenity’s_ witch,” River said baldly.

Ms. Kaverin started and Jayne smirked. Mal felt his own mouth twitching as he watched the dark-haired woman pull herself together, hiding her fear behind a smooth, polite mask.

 _Oh, Inara, you woulda almost met your match with this one_ , he thought.

Once upon a time, the resemblance between the two women might have caused him pain, but he found that he no longer had so many regrets about Inara as he once had. He missed her, she was his crew, but she was better off where she was, and he… well, the very fact that Ms. Kaverin’s formidable reserve and poise kind of annoyed him showed plain enough why he and Inara wouldn’t have worked out. He’d spent whole a heap of time trying to get a genuine reaction out of her when she’d been on _Serenity_ , and she’d fought him every step of the way. It seemed obvious enough now that he didn’t really like playing those sorts of games, although at the time, he’d been clueless.

Ms. Kaverin cleared her throat.

“The doctor says you should be ready to travel by this evening,” she said to Mal. “My grandfather would like to speak with you before you leave.”

Mal nodded.

“Very well, ma’am,” he said politely.

 _Thank God for River_ , he thought. _She may be a crazy genius who talks in riddles half th’ time, but at least a body can tell how she feels about somethin’_.

River looked down at him with a dazzling smile.

The interview with Nikolai Kaverin was short and largely indecipherable. The old man appeared in the room as Jayne was helping Mal, freshly risen and refreshed— under his own power, thank you very much— into a borrowed blue button-down shirt. Mal was seriously beginning to think that any suit he put on was cursed from the get-go, what with how they couldn’t seem to survive more than twenty-four hours without getting torn and covered in blood.

They exchanged a few pleasantries, Kaverin thanked them for their assistance, Mal thanked him for his hospitality, and all the while the two men watched each other like gorram wolves in a territorial dispute. Then, as Kaverin was turning to go, he paused.

“There are rumors about your ship, you know, Captain Reynolds,” he said, “Rumors that the name _Serenity_ means more than mere nostalgia, that on her, the Independent cause remains alive.”

Mal stiffened.

“War’s long done,” he said, eyeing the old man warily.

Nikolai Kaverin smiled.

“Oh yes,” he said. “The war is done and the Alliance won. However, victory is strange. It is not always a permanent condition and a thing once won can be lost through foolishness, inattention, or changing circumstances.

“There are whispers from the Core. Apparently, there has been unrest even on worlds that are staunchly Alliance, and the government itself has been in some disarray for the past two years, ever since the Miranda Wave. There are even reports that Parliament is considering pulling its resources off of less strategic Rim worlds in order to consolidate its hold on the central planets. ”

Mal’s neck prickled.

“Don’t see as it makes much difference t’ me,” he said— lied. “Ain’t been a soldier in a long time.”

“No,” Kaverin agreed. “But, if hearsay is to be believed, you have been a keeper of justice in your own way. The Rim may soon find itself like Britain on Earth-that-was after the Romans withdrew: free, but defenseless. At that point, men like you may be the difference between peace and chaos.”

With those profoundly disturbing words, the old man took his leave.

“ _Ó, yīnwèi wǒ de y y de ài_ ,”[3] Mal said wearily.

“Damn,” Jayne said. “Two years later and that gorram Miranda Wave is still comin’ back t’ bite us in the ass. Next time you decide t’ do something noble, Mal, remind me t’ knock you over th’ head and lock you up so’s you can’t.”

“ _If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading_ ,”  [4] River remarked dispassionately.

 

***

 

Jayne had rarely been so pleased to set foot back on _Serenity_ as he was today. He supported Mal’s weight with one hand and punched to door controls with the other, breathing a sigh of relief as the airlock shut behind them. Beside him, he felt Mal let out his own long breath.

“Good t’ be home,” Mal said.

“Please tell me we got what we came for?” Jayne said as he helped Mal carefully towards the stairs. “It’d be a serious kick in the _gāowán_[5] if we went through that crazy-ass ex-perience and didn’t have nothin’ t’ show for it.”

“Athens, thirteen point two five standard days from now,” River said. “Coordinates 10.34° South by 73.2° West.”

“Shiny,” Mal said, grunting with pain as they started up the steps. “Well done, everybody.”

“Can’t believe, with all th’ _lā shǐ_ we been pullin’ lately, you got shot at a ruttin’ _party_ ,” Jayne said.

“Told you, captain doesn’t do well at balls,” River said as they reached the middle landing. She cocked her head, frowning with concentration. “Left her alone,” she said worriedly. “Must check that she’s okay. Then we must disappear, firefly in the swamp, light where it cannot be seen.”

She ran lightly up the rest of the steps and headed off towards the bridge, her borrowed robe fluttering around her.

“Sometimes she’s moonier about this ship than you are, captain,” Jayne said, shaking his head.

“That she is,” Mal said, slightly breathlessly. “She says her and _Serenity_ are a lot alike, both been banged up all t’ hell, but still work just shiny, you handle ‘em right.”

Jayne snorted.

“You’re married to a girl who thinks she’s like your ship and calls herself ‘Serenity’ when she gets mad,” he said. “You start prayin’ again, Mal? ‘Cause that’s almost enough t’ make a man believe in a higher power.”

“Could ask you th’ same thing,” Mal returned as Jayne helped him towards Shuttle One. “We all know how you feel ‘bout deadly objects, and here you are married to a girl who’s more dangerous than your entire arsenal put t’gether.”

“Shepherd’d be smirkin’ at us both somethin’ awful, he were here,” Jayne said ruefully, hitting the controls for the shuttle door.

“If he weren’t too busy preachin’ a sermon on which level a’ hell we were bound for,” Mal panted.

Jayne helped him carefully across the shuttle and lowered him onto the bed. They’d have to deal with his clothes later, but right now, Mal needed to rest before he passed out. Jayne dropped to his knees and pulled the other man’s shoes off.

“Don’t you start that again,” Jayne growled as Mal fell back with a groan and closed his eyes. “You broodin’ is one thing, but River? Ain’t none of us wants that.”

“She shouldn’t have t’ deal with me,” Mal muttered, eyes still closed. “I got too much in my head a Reader shouldn’t have t’ hear.”

“Hate t’ tell you, but her bein’ a Reader ain’t got much t’ do with it,” Jayne said, standing up and heading over to the sink. “When girlfolk get t’ carin’ on you, you gotta be prepared for some fearsome sulks when you get stupid. And Mal, it really don’t take a mind reader t’ know when you’re gettin’ stupid, even _I_ can figure it out.”

He filled a glass of water and fished the pills the Kaverin’s doctor had given them out out of his pocket.

“Now that’s gender stereotyping,” Mal said, causing Jayne to goggle at him.

“What’s that when it’s at home?” he asked.

Mal pried his eyes open to peer at Jayne in amusement.

“Means makin’ assumptions based on whether a person happens t’ be a man or a woman,” he said. “Accordin’ t’ the folks as did my officers’ trainin’, that’s generally a mistake. I mean, I’m assumin’ you ain’t includin Zoe in your list a’ sulkin’ girlfolk?”

Jayne snorted and handed Mal the glass, then opened the pill bottle and shook two of the soothers out into his hand.

“Are you jokin’, Captain?” he asked, holding the pills out to Mal. “Zoe’s got a sulk on her could kill a body. Or didn’t you notice that it was like a gorram deep-freeze in here after you got in that duel on Persephone? Or when your sorta-wife nearly got us murdered by scrappers? Or when th’ Shepherd and Inara left?”

“Hmm,” Mal said, looking at the pills with distaste. “Reckon it may a’ been a bit chilly on occasion. Thought that was just Zoe.”

“Oh, part of it is,” Jayne said with a shudder. “Be thankful River don’t do th’ fish eye thing most a’ th’ time. Now, you gonna take these pills, or do I have t’ go get Crazy Girl t’ pout at you?”

“It’s just a scratch,” Mal said. “Don’t see as I need t’ be takin’ soothers.”

“See, now this is one a’ th’ kinds a’ bein’ stupid where it _does_ matter that you’re married to a Reader,” Jayne said. “She can feel you hurtin’, Mal, so take th’ damn pills.”

Mal sighed, but he took the damn pills.

 

***

 

Jayne and River lay on a flat shelf of rock above a sparse grassy slope. River was looking through the scope of one of Jayne’s sniper rifles at the herd of deer grazing below and Jayne was watching River, admiring her still stance and steady hands.

With Mal out of commission, they’d decided to go to ground for a little while. River had chosen Ithendra, a little scrap of open grassland and pine barrens orbiting one of the Georgia System’s gas giants, and had landed them in a nice, sheltered valley with plenty of fresh water and a dearth of available sightlines for stray scanners.

Since they were effectively dirtbound until Mal was back up to scratch, Jayne had decided to teach River how to hunt and get them some actual food for once. They’d left the ship this morning with Jayne’s rifle and a belt of ammo and headed up into the hill, finding a deer trail not far from their landing spot and following it to this graze.

River drew in a deep, slow breath, then let it out while, at the same time, pressing down on the trigger. The rifle fired and the deer below scattered, except for one doe that went down with a bullet straight through the head.

River gave a startled cry and jerked back from the rifle, staring at it in horror, causing Jayne’s congratulations to die on his lips.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” he asked, sitting up and pulling her into his arms.

Her body was shaking and she was breathing raggedly.

“Became one,” she said. “Saw as she saw, moved as she moved. Then a bullet comes from the sky, smashes through our brain.”

Jayne started and a sick, cold feeling settled in his stomach.

“You felt her die?” he said. “Th’ doe?”

River nodded.

“Killed her, killed myself,” she said.

“That always what it’s like when you kill someone?” Jayne asked hesitantly, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

River shook her head.

“Feel it, but it isn’t me,” she said. “But she was different. Gentle mind, innocent soul— easy to be her, until I took her life away.”

Jayne relaxed a fraction and heaved a sigh. He was right sorry River had shared the doe’s death, but he was glad it didn’t normally work that way.

“‘Verse is a mighty cruel place sometimes, _mì táng_ ,” he said. “Ain’t hardly an animal means less harm than a doe deer, but we ain’t the only critters as looks t’ them for a meal.”

A memory from his childhood came back to him and he paused, thinking.

“C’mon, _bǎobèi_ ,” he said.

He picked up the rifle, folding away the tripod with practiced ease, then held out his free hand to River. She took it and together they descended the steep, rock slope. They stopped in front of the deer and Jayne, setting the rifle down, knelt beside the tawny body, gesturing for River to do the same.

“There was this fella where I grew up, called himself Johnny Gray Hawk,” Jayne said. “Used t’ go hunting with him sometimes when I was a kid, he was th’ first one t’ teach me about trackin’ and such. Anyways, he had this thing he used t’ do after he made a kill. Don’t know if I can remember it, but…”

Jayne reached out and brushed his fingers across the side of the dead deer’s head. River’s shot had been quick and clean, so there wasn’t much blood, but there was enough to wet his fingers. He reached out and touched the deer’s blood to River’s lips and forehead. River closed her eyes and, leaning forward, pressed her hands to the deer’s still side. Jayne opened his mouth, but River began speaking before he could, drawing Johnny’s words out of his memory.

“ _Sister, we are one_ ,” she said “ _As it’s been, so it is now: we take your life to nourish ours. We offer you our thanks. Be at peace as you return home to the sky whence we all come._ ”

After several minutes of silence, she took a deep breath and straightened. She looked at Jayne and smiled a small, sad smile.

“Thank you,” she said.

Jayne nodded, then stood.

“C’n you manage Sue?” he asked, nodding to the rifle.

River nodded and rose, going to collect the gun, while Jayne hefted the deer carcass onto his shoulder for the walk back to the ship.

 

***

 

Mal hated being injured.

It wasn’t because it hurt. The pain wasn’t a bed of roses, but he could deal with it. No, it was the helplessness that got to him. He hated being trapped in his own body, unable to even tie his boots by himself.

At least this morning he had a job to do. It was a nothing job, but still, it was better than lying in the bed in Shuttle One listening to the engine and counting puffs of air from the O² processors. He sat in Kaylee’s folding chair by the stream and watched the gravity feed River and Jayne had rigged up yesterday as it slowly filled _Serenity’s_ water tanks. All he had to do was make sure nothing got clogged in the hose. If it did, River had cobbled together a vacuum bypass. All Mal had to do was flip a switch and it should dislodge the blockage.

Even weak as a day-old kitten and with one arm still strapped to his chest, Mal should be able to manage that.

Mal tipped his head back and, for just a moment, allowed himself to enjoy natural sunlight. Without Kaylee, a lot of the routine maintenance on _Serenity_ had had to be put on hold, which included keeping the lights calibrated. Kaylee had a special way of doing it that made the shipboard lights mimic sunlight, which she said kept a body healthy and happy, even in the black. Mal reckoned River could probably figure out the way of it if she had to, but there were a whole lot more pressing matters to attend to.

Damn, they needed their crew back. _Serenity_ needed her mechanic, Mal needed his first mate, and River…

Well, when this had all begun, he’d thought she needed her doctor, but he was beginning to think he’d been wrong about that. Left to her own devices, she seemed to be finding a way to live with what had been done to her. More than live, really. Mal was pretty sure that she was doing things with her abilities that the people at the Academy had never even dreamed of. He wasn’t certain exactly what they _had_ been dreaming of, mind you, but he didn’t believe that using other people’s minds to think or bringing ordinary folk into her dreams had been on their agenda. He _knew_ that they hadn’t intended her to choose how and when to use her combat skills, had made absolutely no allowances for the what would happen if the genius mind they had tortured and ripped open and made psychic was suddenly in control of the weapon they were trying to create.

River called herself an angel, and Mal thought that might not be far from the truth. The Alliance had tried to play God and create their own supernatural messenger, not realizing that a true angel did not serve the corrupt will of Man. An angel who did evil was not an angel, but a demon. That was, after all, how demons had been made: they were angels who had done wrong and turned into monsters.

River would have been a monster if they had succeeded in their intentions.

And she wouldn’t have been the first. He remembered the Operative’s words when Mal had asked if he and his should just lay down and die so that the man could live in his better world: ' _I'm not going to live there. There's no place for me there... any more than there is for you. Malcolm... I'm a monster. What I do is evil. I have no illusions about it, but it must be done.'_ [6] The Operative had known what he was, and had believed that it was worth it right up until Mal had shown him what kind of ‘better world’ he was actually helping to build. But River… Simon had gotten River out of the Academy before they could make her like that poor bastard.

 _Lucifer falls, Michael rises_. River’s words. She could have fallen like Lucifer, but she hadn’t, and that was because of Simon. But it wasn’t Simon’s doctoring skills that had saved her, it was his determination to rescue her. And he had rescued her because he loved her, and she had taken control over her own abilities and fought the Reavers on Mr. Universe’s moon because she loved him. Love had kept her from becoming the demon they had been trying to create, and now, because of love, she was something else, something as close to an angel as a mortal body could be.

She seemed to know it, too. _Serenity does not protect out of duty, she protects out of love._ Only it wasn’t just love for Simon, not anymore, it was the crew as well: Simon, her big brother, Zoe, Kaylee, and Inara, her adopted big sisters, and Mal and Jayne, her… Christ, they were her lovers, weren’t they? Her husbands. Somewhere along the line, Mal had come to the realization that things were never going to go back to the way they were before, even after they rescued Zoe, Kaylee, and Simon. He wasn’t sure what Jayne thought about it, but for him, well, this marriage had become real a long while ago. He was River’s husband and he’d stay her husband until she said he wasn’t, which, judging by the conversations they’d been having, she wasn’t planning on doing any time soon. So here they were, a whole messed up, mixed up family, all loving in different ways and for different reasons, but loving nonetheless. And here was _Serenity_ , the ship that River loved near as much as she loved the crew, their safe haven, their home.

Oh, the Alliance had no idea what they’d done. They’d given a mortal girl the power of an angel and then let her escape, find a home, build a family. What would a mortal angel do to protect her home and her family?

“Hey, cap’n.”

He was so deep in his thoughts that the sound of Jayne’s voice behind him made him jump a mile. Mal grunted as the sudden movement jarred his shoulder.

“Number of hours you have spent living with injuries means you should be an expert,” River commented as he took several deep breaths. “Can’t understand why you are still at the beginner level.”

Mal turned— carefully— intending to glare at his honorable merc and his crazy genius. His plans were disrupted, however, by what he saw. Jayne had a dead deer slung over his shoulders while River carried Jayne’s gun. However, it wasn’t the deer or the gun that had caught his attention. River’s face had dried blood smeared on the lips and forehead in a manner that, while not identical, was eerily reminiscent of the dream they’d shared back at the Kaverins’ mansion. Mal felt a little cold. He had been thinking about River as an angel, but now he remembered that she had other ways of defining herself: she called herself a witch, a weapon, and, his personal least favorite, death.

“Different story,” River said, Reading his thoughts. “Life comes from death, innocent soul returning to the sky.”

Mal, frowned, glancing at Jayne for an explanation. While ‘life comes from death’ and ‘innocent soul returning to the sky’ sounded like a promising alternative to drinking blood before sending souls to Hades, he wanted to know exactly what had happened before he decided for sure this was a good development.

Jayne swung the deer off his shoulders and rolled his neck, enjoying being free of the weight.

“She feels it when she kills somethin’,” he said. “Never thought about it b’fore, but it stands t’ reason. Got a mite upset after she shot th’ deer, so I told her about somethin’ I’d seen back when I was a boy, a— a— ceremony, I guess, for when you make a kill.”

“Rituals passed down from ancient tribes of North America, back on Earth-that-was,” River said. “All things are one. Life and death as sisters, not enemies.”

“Gotta say, that version sounds a whole lot more healthful,” Mal said. “But you gotta remember, you’re more than just a killer, darlin’.”

“Night’s daughter, born of darkness and pain, learning to walk in the light,” River said. “Wears different faces, some cruel, some kind."

“Well, better put on th’ face that’s gonna learn how t’ dress a deer,” Jayne said, “‘Cause I didn’t haul a hunnerd and fifty pounds a’ venison all th’ way back here t’ _look_ at.”

Mal hadn’t dressed a deer in the better part of two decades and didn’t remember much of the process, but it turned out that that didn’t matter, because neither River nor Jayne would let him do more than hold the tools anyhow.

They did, however, allow him to take point on dealing with the meat once it had been cut off the bones and rendered into manageable chunks. At least, metaphorically speaking. Jayne was still doing all of the heavy lifting, but of the three of them, Mal had the most experience dealing with large amounts of raw meat. His Ma’s cook had helped raise him, after all, and forty ranch hands ate a lot. They got a fire going a safe distance away from the grav feed and River ran back to _Serenity_ for salt and whatever metal rods she could scrounge from Kaylees scrap pile.

They set up a few spits and settle down to watch the venison cook. At first, they’re all on their own separate sides of the fire, Jayne and River squabbling good naturedly over the privilege of turning the spit. Gradually, however, River ended up on the ground by Mal’s chair, head leaning against Mal’s leg, his good hand buried in her hair, and Jayne sat in front of her, her legs across his thighs, absently running his big hand up and down her calf. Like that evening after the salvage pull off the _New Frontier_ , there was plenty they could have been talking about, could have been planning, but this moment of peace seemed too rare and precious to waste.

By the time the meat was done, it was heading towards mid afternoon and Mal was exhausted, even though he really hadn’t done anything except sit upright for a couple hours and give orders. Jayne and River packaged up the venison, some to eat now, most to go in the deep-freeze, and River shut down the grav feed and headed for the bridge to stop the water filters while Jayne hauled Mal to his feet and helped him towards the ship.

They were just getting to the shuttle when River appeared from the direction of the bridge, frowning.

“Waves in the night, cross unseen,” she said, pressing the door control for Shuttle One and heading, not for the main room, but for the cockpit.

Mal gave a weary sigh and jerked his head at Jayne, indicating that they should follow. Jayne helped him through and lowered him into one of the cockpit chairs while River, seated in the other, brought something up on the screen.

It was a recording off of the wave core. Mal didn’t recognize the ident code, but he sat up in surprise when the message began playing, wincing as the movement pulled his stitches. The face that came on the screen was that of Alejandro Li Juhn, Xerxes Li’s bodyguard.

“ _Hello Captain Reynolds, Ms. Hépíng,_ ” he said. “ _I hope you will pardon my presumption, but I recall that your ship is in need of a pilot and has a… unique compensation package to offer the right candidate. I think that I may have a recommendation for you._ ”

He then provided wave coordinates and times when he could be reached and signed off.

Mal looked first at River, then at Jayne. He was pretty jaded on the whole backup pilot thing, but their need for a getaway driver hadn’t changed and they were coming down to the wire on time. River, of course, knew exactly what he was thinking, but surprisingly Jayne was the one who spoke as though he had read Mal’s mind.

“Someone’s willin’ t’ vouch for ‘em and we still need a cockpit jockey,” he said, shrugging. “‘Sides, seemingly all we gotta do is leave ‘em alone on the bridge with River for five minutes t’ know if’n they’re a bad seed.”

Mal glared at Jayne, remembering River’s reaction to taking Jack out. River curled into herself, looking worried.

“ _The Soul selects her own Society —_ _  
_ _Then — shuts the Door —_ _  
_ _To her divine Majority —_ __  
Present no more —”[7]  she muttered.

Mal shook his head. Just when he thought River was starting to make sense, she trotted out something like that.

“Trying to force the ‘verse into a box made of words,” River said, looking at him. “Old words are already there, box ready-made, don’t have to build it while holding back the stars. But they are how they are, can’t change the size or shape to fit the moment.”

Running over what River had said and what he had just been thinking, Mal put together a tentative idea of what she meant.

“Easier for you t’ use words as have already been said when your head gets too full, huh?” he said. “‘At’s fine, little Albatross. However, I would like t’ point out that some a’ what you get from other folk is easy t’ figure out and some of it don’t make no kinda sense. Think we could maybe steer towards th’ stuff that _chǔn dàns_ like us have a hope of understandin’?”

River stared at him for a moment, then gave him a sudden, blinding smile. She sprang lightly out of her chair and leaned over to kiss him full on the mouth, carefully avoiding his bad arm. When she pulled back there were tears in her eyes.

“Here now,” Mal said, reaching up to brush away the drop as it fell from her lashes onto her cheek, “Didn’t mean t’ make you cry, sweetheart.”

“Good tears,” River said, smiling another heart-stopping smile. “You see me.”

“I do try, darlin’,” Mal said. “God knows most of our problems seem t’ crop up when I stop lookin’ at what’s in front of me. Don’t pretend t’ understand you, mind, think that may be beyond mortal power, but I see you.”

“Don’t have to understand,” River said, “Just accept.”

Mal took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. His eyes flicked to Jayne, who was listening in that still, watchful he had when something important was going down and his moment hadn’t yet arrived. Usually, his moment involved bullets, but the rules appeared to be changing so Mal wasn’t sure what his role was anymore. Taking care of River, he supposed. And _Serenity_. Which, if River were to be believed, amounted to the same thing a lot of the time.

“‘At’s good,” Jayne said, catching Mal’s eye and smirking a little. “Ain’t a man in th’ ‘verse can truly understand womenfolk even when they ain’t Readers, so I reckon we ain’t got no chance a’ understandin’ you, baby doll. But I don’t need t’ understand you t’ know you’re all kinds a’ shiny.”

River smiled at him and went up on tiptoes to press her lips to his. He put one arm around her back and opened his mouth, causing River to moan a little against his tongue. Mal found that, despite the pain, the blood loss, and the soothers his body had been subjected to over the past two days, the sight still had the power to turn him on.

He cleared his throat. Now was _not_ the time for those sorts of thoughts, he was way too tired.

“So,” he said, “When can we make that wave?”

 

***

 

“ _You understand that this particular candidate comes with certain… shall we say, strings attached?_ ” Alejandro Li Juhn asked, folding his hands on the table in front of him.

They’d ended up waiting until their clocks and Juhn’s synced up the next morning and now River, Jayne, and Mal were all back in Shuttle One’s cockpit. Mal and River were in front of the cam, but Jayne was off to one side where Juhn couldn’t see him.

No sense handing out information on the crew for free.

“Assumed, since you had cause t’ think of us, that there was probably somethin’ we could help ‘em out with,” Mal said neutrally, masking his discomfort with practiced ease.

His button down shirt hid the bandages and had left the sling off— again, no sense in giving Juhn more info than was necessary— but his shoulder was hurting like a son-of-bitch.

“ _You are most perceptive, Captain Reynolds,_ ” Juhn said.

 _If only you knew that the bitty girl you’re so taken with is more perceptive’n both of us put together_ , Mal thought.

He was trying very hard not to mind that the little crime-lord-to-be so obviously appreciated River making this wave _en_ _déshabillé—_ loose hair, no makeup, and wearing Ms. Kaverin’s green robe. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed after a night of… well, actually, _that_ part wasn’t far off the mark.

There wasn’t anything wrong with Jayne to keep him and River from enjoying themselves, and as for Mal… well, it turned out, she’d been learning some mighty interesting things while she and Jayne had been off exploring the Kaverins’ mansion, things that didn’t require him to do any work at all. River might not have been inclined to risk him tearing his stitches even so— apparently, _nobody_ on this boat trusted him with his own stitches— but Jayne had offered to brace him so he didn’t jar his shoulder by accident. It had been very strange for all of forty-five seconds, and then he had been so overcome with pleasure and relief (for reasons past understanding, _not_ being able to make love to River had jacked up his sex drive to the point where what would have been a perfectly acceptable length of time had become unbearably frustrating) to care. By the time they hit the two minute mark, Mal was just glad Jayne was so gorram big that he could keep him still without any kind of fuss or struggle.

“I get by,” Mal said aloud. “So, tell me about your candidate and th’ strings attached to ‘em.”

“ _Her name is Ya’el Skylar and she is a former Allied Navy combat pilot,_ ” Juhn said. “ _Her last posting was as a test pilot in R & D, but I believe that, before that, she was in a deep-space tactical squadron. Her qualifications are most impressive._”

Mal had gone stiff as soon as he heard the words ‘Allied Navy.’ He tried not to blame the soldiers who had been on the other side— they had, after all, just been following orders— but he’d always suspected his self-control would snap if he met one of the pilots who bombed Shadow or strafed Hera. The news that this pilot had been Black-TAC, not At-TAC, went a little ways towards easing the tension— he’d never been near a space battle, so they’d never have crossed paths during the war— but he still wasn’t thrilled with the idea of letting a former All-ComP on his boat.

“I assume there’s a reason a former Allied combat pilot would want t’ ship out with an operation like ours, but I must say, I can’t think what it might be,” he said as mildly as he could, considering the muscle in his jaw was twitching. “Generally speaking, Alliance goes their way, we go ours.”

“ _I guessed as much,_ ” Juhn said. “ _In fact, that is what made me think of you. It seems that former Officer Skylar has had a… difference of opinion with the AN. She declined to reenlist when her commission expired and has been working in the private sector. However, she now finds herself in need of help that her current employers are too, shall we say, close to the Alliance to give._ ”

“Uh huh,” Mal said. “And what kind of help might that be?”

“ _Yes, well, therein lies the string, Captain_ ,” Juhn said. “ _One of Ms. Skylar’s former teammates— an astronautical engineer by the name of Benjamin Ross— is serving time in a naval prison on Albion. Do you know anything about the reintegration process for military prisoners, Captain Reynolds?_ ”

Mal was about to say no, he didn’t, with a glare that meant ‘why would you think I would?’, when River broke in.

“Prisoners with guaranteed employment in the civilian sector are eligible for release without parole at the time of their first hearing,” she said. “Without such a guarantee, prisoners are not eligible until their second hearing, and are sometimes held until their third or fourth. Also, they are released on strict parole.”

Juhn studied River thoughtfully. Mal shrugged.

“What she said,” he said, jerking his thumb at River.

“ _Well stated, Ms. Hépíng_ ,” Juhn said. “ _That is, indeed the policy. Unfortunately for Ms. Skylar’s friend, certain parties have an interest in keeping him under their oversight. They have applied, shall we say, pressure to those civilian employers who might otherwise have offered him a guarantee. Do you see where I’m going with this?”_

Mal did, though he wished he didn’t. This sounded a lot more up-close and personal with the Alliance that he wanted to be, especially now, not to mention being gorram complicated.

“We take the pilot, we take her friend too,” Mal said shortly.

“ _I am assured that Ms. Skylar is willing to work for Mr. Ross’s passage,_ ” Juhn said. “ _You would not be in any way financially inconvenienced by the extra hand._ ”

“That’s between her and me,” Mal said. “I’m more concerned with this whole thing gettin’ us a mite too cozy with the law. Havin’ Alliance lookin’ too close at me and my ship ain’t a good thing for us on th’ best of days.”

“ _I understand, Captain,_ ” Juhn said. “ _I_ _cannot, of course, weigh the risks for you. I can only say that my contacts assure me that interest in Mr. Ross is confined to a few specific naval and governmental departments whose influence outside the AN is limited to the Core, mostly to Albion. They have no ins with Fed or SpaceCon and are, in addition, anxious to stay under Parliament’s radar. A Rim transport, even a disreputable one, is probably beyond their purview._ ”

 _Contacts, eh_? Mal thought. _So much for waiting until Li retires. Sounds like Juhn has already set up shop_.

Mal looked at River. She couldn’t Read people over waves, if he understood correctly, but she might have some insight into what they should do. River, however, seemed distracted. She head her head tilted to one side, clearly listening to something, and Mal couldn’t figure out what it was until he looked over at Jayne, who was wearing a look of intense concentration.

Jayne was talking to River in his head.

“What’s this ‘friend‘ in th’ nick _for_?” River asked Juhn, her voice slipping into Jayne’s accent.

Juhn did a double take, then frowned at River for a long moment, clearly trying to figure out the reason for her abrupt change in speech pattern and coming up blank. Apparently failing to find any sort of rational explanation, and understandably unwilling to ask point-blank, he answered the question.

“ _I believe that Mr. Ross was charged under Article 202, failure to obey a direct order,_ ” he said. “ _What the order was I don’t know, as the court records are sealed. However, my sources tell me that the sentence he received— dishonorable discharge and two years in prison— is the maximum punishment for an Article 202 conviction._ ”

Well, that was good to know. Mal hadn’t gotten around to considering Ross himself, he’d been focused on the difficulties of getting the man out of jail, but knowing what he was in prison for was definitely a plus. Disobedience could be problematical if he chose to become a repeat offender— witness Brass’s short sojourn on _Serenity_ — but it probably wouldn’t necessitate putting a bullet in the man’s head the way A & B or rape would. Mal shot Jayne a ‘well done’ look.

Jayne smirked.

River remained silent for a moment, brow furrowed, then turned to Mal.

“Counsellor on Ezra,” she said decisively.

Mal did some quick thinking. He remembered Inara’s glamorous female client. Among other things, she’d gotten the equipment to reattach his ear after Niska cut it off, which had been mighty kind, but he didn’t think that reattaching body parts was what River was referring to. More likely it had something to do with when she’d first come on board…

Aha!

“No one sets foot on my boat without I don’t meet ‘em,” he told Juhn firmly, using virtually the same words he’d used then. “‘Til we’ve had a face to face with both of ‘em, I can’t make no promises. I’m willing to consider it, though. And Skylar makin’ a good impression would definitely persuade me t’ be more open-minded when we meet her friend.”

“ _Very reasonable, Captain Reynolds,_ ” Juhn said. “ _If you give me a location, I can have Ms. Skylar on a transport within the next forty-eight hours._ ”

 

***

 

Ya’el stepped through the beaded curtain that served as a door for the bar and looked around. The room was bathed in hazy afternoon light which poured in through the filthy street-facing window, showing clearly that the roughly built tables and the splintery floor were filthy and the patrons were even filthier.

Ya’el hesitated. This backwater moon was the first Rim planet she’d ever set foot on and she had felt uncomfortable ever since she’d gotten off the transport. There was a mirror over the bar and, as Ya’el started forward, she got a very striking visual of exactly how out of place she was. Her bold features and stark coloring were nothing out of the ordinary, but her pale face was clean and her gleaming black hair was pulled back neatly into a severe club at the base of her neck. Her clothes too were ordinary and functional, but against the baggy, dully colored clothing most of the patrons were wearing, her navy surplus boots, black shirt, and fitted black vest and trousers seemed to scream ‘Core.’ Even the way she held herself, chin up, back Navy straight, looked incongruous.

She set her jaw, hitched her bag up on her shoulder, and approached the bar. The bartender, a big guy with livid white scars that stood out painfully against the mahogany skin of his face, gave her a stony look.

“I’m looking for Malcolm Reynolds,” Ya’el said, forcing herself to remain impassive as her precise Londinium accent caused two of the bar’s occupants to turn and look at her.

The bartender didn’t answer, just jerked his chin towards a table at the back of the room. Ya’el turned her head. The table was half obscured by a grubby folding screen and Ya’el could see only part of it. A big man in a nondescript dun coat was leaning back in a rickety chair, sipping something dubious out of a dirty glass. Another man, leaner than his companion and wearing a brown duster, was resting on his elbow, talking to someone that Ya’el couldn’t see. The two men blended into their surroundings better than Ya’el did, but they clearly weren’t locals. They were too clean and, judging by the gun strapped to the big man’s leg, too well armed.

“Thank you,” Ya’el said to the bartender, turning towards the back of the bar.

The big man hadn’t seemed to be paying any attention to the rest of the room, but the moment that Ya’el moved towards the indicated table, he turned his head and kicked his companion under the table. The man in the brown coat looked up, fixing Ya’el with an intense blue gaze.

Ya’el tensed as she remembered meeting another set of piercing blue eyes for the first time.

 _Ben_.

She straightened her shoulders. For Ben’s sake, she could do this.

She stepped around the screen and stopped in front of the table, her eyes going automatically to the third occupant, the one she hadn’t been able to see. The polite greeting she’d been about to make froze on her lips.

Sitting in the corner, out of sight of the rest of the bar, was a small, dark-haired girl. She was young, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with wild brown hair and huge dark eyes that were too deep and knowing to fit with her pretty, youthful face. Her quilted blue jacket was girlish and, judging by the rolled-up sleeves and too-wide shoulders, not hers, but while it made her look like a child playing dress-up, there was nothing dress-up about the gun Ya’el could see in a shoulder holster under the jacket.

After a second’s awkward silence, the man in the brown coat spoke, bringing Ya’el abruptly back to the task at hand.

“You Ya’el Skylar?” he asked.

He had a Rim accent and, in his mouth, the middle of Ya’el’s name became a single schwa rather than a diphthong.

“Yes, I am,” Ya’el said, trying to recover her equilibrium. “Captain Reynolds?”

“That’s me,” the man in the brown coat said, his face tightening slightly as he studied her. “This is River,” he gestured to the girl whose appearance had so startled Ya’el, “And that’s Jayne,” he indicated the man in the dun coat. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

Ya’el sat down cautiously. The big man— Jayne, Captain Reynolds had said, although perhaps Ya’el had heard wrong— grimaced at her.

“Damn,” he said. “She sounds just like him.”

“Londinium’s a big planet, Jayne,” Captain Reynolds said, still eyeing Ya’el with a sober, unreadable look on his face. “Sure they can’t all be sociopaths.”

“ _You shall commit no injustice in judgment; you shall not favor a poor person or respect a great man; you shall judge your fellow with righteousness,_ ”[8] said the girl Captain Reynolds had called River in a clear, steady voice.

The hair on the backs of Ya’el’s arms stood up. In contrast to the two men, the girl had a pure Core accent— Osiris, Ya’el thought, or maybe Ariel. She seemed to be made up completely of contradictions.

“Fair enough,” Captain Reynolds said calmly.

“Is something wrong?” Ya’el asked carefully, keeping her face blank.

“Not a thing,” Captain Reynolds said with another not-smile. “We ain’t dealt with anyone from Londinium for a while is all, and last time we did… well, let’s just say, he ain’t on our Christmas card list. I’m sure you’ll be different though.”

Jayne’s snort suggested just what the big man thought of that. The girl simply watched, head cocked on one side.

“So,” Captain Reynolds continued, “I reckon our mutual friend told you our terms, same as he told us yours?”

Ya’el gave a tight nod. The list of terms and conditions that Widget’s contact had sent her before she left Albion had been short and simple, although a few of them had puzzled her. Why, for example, would a captain feel it necessary to specify that she wasn’t supposed to work for anyone else while under his employ?

“Good,” Captain Reynolds said. “Then we can move this along. River’s got some questions for you, an’ if she likes the answers, we’ll give it a try. Two weeks’ trial should give us more’n enough time t’ figure out if we’re suited to each other.”

Jayne gave a bark of laughter.

“Didn’t take that long with either a’ the others,” he said.

Ya’el felt tension creeping across her shoulders and down her back. She was confused and out of her depth and the news that two other people had had this job before her and hadn’t been able to handle it was not reassuring. She had doubted her ability to make this work from the moment she had agreed to do it. What did she know about the lawless wilderness that was the Rim, or the people who worked there? She was a grunt who kept her head down and followed orders. She had barely set foot off a base during her whole time in the navy.

River was staring at her with eyes that looked like they’d seen everything there was to see in the ‘verse. Including the inner recesses of Ya’el’s soul. Ya’el tried to remain impassive, but it was difficult. It became even more difficult when the girl leaned forward, eyes still fixed on Ya’el’s face, and spoke in a low, measured voice.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

Ya’el froze. She had no idea how to answer that. In the original version of this plan, it wasn’t supposed to be her at all. Widget was supposed to be the one who got job somewhere far away from Albion and the people who wanted to keep Ben in prison. But then he’d found a dubious character on Imperia who knew of a transport looking for a pilot. ‘ _Skyfall, I’ve got something!'_  Widget had told her excitedly over the scrambled wave he’d set up. ‘ _It doesn’t pay much, but my guy says the ship stays under the radar and the crew is used to doing… odd jobs. Reading between the lines, this kind of thing is right in their wheelhouse. Only thing is, they’re looking for a pilot, not a programmer._ ’  

Ya’el hadn’t known what to say. She, Widget, and Pet, with occasional input from Sundance and Doi, had been trying to figure out a plan since the date of Ben’s hearing had been set, but no one had ever thought that Ya’el would be taking an active role in it. Ya’el rarely took an active role in anything that didn’t involve a cockpit. She had eventually gotten comfortable enough at the Raptor Cage to make small-talk or the occasional joke with her teammates, but for the most part, she stayed quiet and did her job.

But now, suddenly, it was all down to her. Duke was gone, Bricks was in a wheelchair, and Sundance would never go that far out of her way for anybody, even if she didn’t still have two years of active service left. They needed a pilot, and Ya’el was the only one left.

“I am helping a friend,” Ya’el managed to say aloud.

River smiled a small, sad smile, looking for all the world as though she knew everything Ya’el had been thinking.

“Why did you learn to fly?” the girl asked.

Again, Ya’el had no idea what to say. Joining the navy hadn’t been a choice. She’d been enrolled in the Londinium Naval Academy at fourteen, graduated in the top third of her class, and then gone straight into officer training. The only thing that had ever been in question had been which branch of service she would end up in. Originally, her family had intended for her to follow the command track, but her flight aptitude tests had been off the charts. In the end, she had gone into Black-TAC instead.

She had given up trying to figure out whether that had been the best or the worst choice she had ever made.

“It is what I am good at,” she said finally, eyes averted, shoulders stiff.

River’s eyes had become practically hypnotic.

“What do you love?” the eerie girl said, her voice practically a whisper.

Ya’el jerked back involuntarily. What in the ‘verse was this all about? She didn’t understand these questions, and she was all but certain her inadequate answers were going to ruin everything.

 _Usesless! You’re absolutely useless, Ya’el!_ she thought angrily.

“What do you love?” River insisted.

Ya’el didn’t know. She thought that she was supposed to love her family, but she hadn’t seen them in years, and even before that, the Skylar clan had not been a particularly affectionate one. She supposed that she loved flying, but ‘love’ seemed like the wrong word to describe the feeling she got when she held a joystick or a yoke in her hands.

Then she remembered the day when she had beat the sim for a new design in under fifteen seconds. Bricks had yelled ‘Go Skyfall!’ and clapped her exuberantly on the back. Ben had put both arms up in a two-handed victory salute and whooped, ‘Yeah! Now _that’s_ what I’m talking about!’ And Duke had smiled and said ‘Good job’ in that quiet way he had that made a person feel like they had just conquered the ‘verse.

“My friends!” Ya’el blurted out. “I love my friends!”

It sounded pathetic, even as she said it, but how could she explain that, until she’d joined Raptor Team and had been suddenly surrounded by that warm, easy comradeship, she hadn’t really been able to imagine what love felt like?

But River, impossibly, seemed to understand, because she was smiling a smile so bright that it seemed as though another sun had come up in the corner of this dingy bar.

“We got us a winner, little Albatross?” asked Captain Reynolds, who had been watching this incomprehensible exchange closely.

River turned her blinding smile on him, and it was so compelling that he seemed to have no choice but to smile back.

“Water to water,” she said. “So long as the well is not poisoned, all who thirst shall drink.”

Ya’el blinked, not understanding, but the Captain Reynolds just nodded.

“Shiny,” he said.

He tilted his head and studied Ya’el thoughtfully for a minute before holding out one hand.

“Welcome to th’ crew,” Captain Reynolds said.

The captain’s palm was warm and callused and his grip was firm. They shook, then he got to his feet, smiling brightly at all of them.

“Who feels th’ need for somethin’ t’ drink that ain’t gonna make us go see God?” he said.

“Death will not occur until blood alcohol content reaches at least 0.35,” River remarked, also rising. “Alcohol quality is irrelevant.”

“Says th’ girl who ain’t drinkin’,” Jayne countered, making a face at his glass, then setting it down decisively and getting to his feet.

“Could,” River said. “Might be amusing.”

The big man’s face took on an expression of almost comical dismay.

“No!” he said hurriedly. “We got ourselves enough amusement without a crazy crazy girl.”

River gave him a smug smile, which then proceeded to transform into a real smile.

“Jayne is sweet to worry,” she said.

While Ya’el was still reeling from this statement— she could not well imagine a less sweet individual than the man in question— the girl further upset her equilibrium by going up on her toes and pressing her lips to the big man’s mouth. He kissed her back with the ease of practice and Captain Reynolds shook his head, smiling at them with fondness and something else Ya’el could not identify.

“Alright, break it up kids,” he said.

The two parted, River smiling brightly and Jayne smirking a little, and the captain began shepherding them towards the door, grumbling under his breath. Ya’el remained sitting for a moment, trying to come to terms with everything that had just happened, before coming to herself, grabbing her bag, and hurrying after them.

In her haste, she found herself unable to avoid the big, red faced man with the ill-fitting shirt who stood up just as she passed by his table, knocking into her with enough force to send her back a step.

“Watch where yer goin’, _zì dà_ _jìnǚ_ ,”[9] he snarled.

Ya’el stared at him, shocked and confused in equal measure. ‘Arrogant whore’?

“What’re you starin’ at, _zi_?” asked the big man’s companion, also rising.

He was a shorter man with a bald head and terrible teeth, and Ya’el had to fight not to grimace at the smell of his breath as he got in her face, glaring at her with bloodshot eyes.

“There a problem here?”

Ya’el let out a breath of relief as she heard Captain Reynolds’s calm voice from behind the two men. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but whatever it was, it was most assuredly not good. She would be only too happy to let Captain Reynolds sort it out.

“ _Kāi liū_ ,”  [10] said the bigger man, turning to glower at Captain Reynolds.

“Just tellin’ th’ Core _yīnhù_ [11] we don’t need her kind here,” the shorter man said, taking another step towards Ya’el.

She stopped breathing as his rancid breath washed over her and tried to step back, but he grabbed her arm. A jolt of adrenaline-laced fear shot through her.

“I suggest you get your hands off th’ lady before we find ourselves in a difficult situation,” Captain Reynolds said, and Ya’el was momentarily distracted from her panic by the sudden change in his voice.

Even Duke hadn’t been able to inject that level of command into his words.

“Ain’t your business, stranger,” the man holding Ya’el’s arm said, his grip tightening painfully.

“You should be thanking ‘em,” slurred another man from a nearby table. “Coat like that, you can’t want Alliance  _fèiwù_ [12] ‘roud here any more’n we do.”

Ya’el blinked, then looked again at Captain Reynolds’s coat. His _brown_ coat.

 _S'Emek_. [13]

“War’s done,” Captain Reynolds said, his voice icy, “And that happens t’ be my pilot you’re manhandlin’.”

The man with the rancid breath let Ya’el go abruptly and turned to face Captain Reynolds. Ya’el immediately took the opportunity to back away and sidle around the stand-off to stand beside River and Jayne, who were watching the captain with resigned looks on their faces.

“Your pilot?” he of the rancid breath was snarling at Mal. “Since when do Independents hire Core _yáng_ ‘stead a’ their own folk?”

Jayne heaved a sigh.

“We ain’t gettin’ out a’ this clean, are we baby doll?” he asked River.

The girl shook her head, frowning with worry.

“Lion has been caged too long, wants to something to bite,” she said.

“Well, just so long as it ain’t me,” Jayne said. “Guess we’d better let him get it out a’ his system, eh?”

“I don’t see as who I hire is any a’ your business,” Captain Reynolds said coolly. “I would venture, however, that opportunities for doin’ ungodly things with the sheep ain’t as common on Core worlds as they are where you come from. No matter, honest mistake.”

The shorter man turned abruptly purple. He drew back his fist and swung hard for the captain, but the man was fast. He ducked and brought his own fist up into his attacker’s gut, knocking the wind out of him, before taking his legs out from under him with a quick, brutal kick. The man went down hard and Captain Reynolds straightened his incredibly troubling brown coat.

“Was it something I said?” he asked, looking around him in faux confusion.

The big, florid man and an anemic fellow with a crooked nose both went for him at the same time and all three of them crashed into a table. Captain Reynold’s came up swinging and, as the anemic fellow’s head snapped back several other bar patrons surged to their feet.

Beside Ya’el, River and Jayne exchanged a look.

“Better get th’ shuttle, River-girl,” Jayne said.

“Deus ex machina,” River replied. She put one hand briefly on Jayne’s arm and looked up at him. “Protect the king,” she said.

“Don’t worry, _bǎobèi_ ,” he said. “I got his back.”

River turned to Ya’el and, without a word, grabbed the duffel bag off her shoulder and slipped out of the bar before the other woman could say a word. Jayne glanced over at her.

“You ever been in a bar fight before?” he asked.

She looked up at him, still blinking in shock, and shook her head.

“Well, you’re about t’ be,” he said with a grin.

Then he grabbed a chair and smashed it over the head of a man who was about to grab Captain Reynolds from behind.

 

***

 

Ten minutes later, a bruised and reeling Ya’el tumbled out of the bar with Captain Reynolds on one side, Jayne on the other, and a horde of drunk and angry locals right behind them. A battered short-range shuttle was setting down on the street outside.

“‘At’s our ride!” Jayne said.

“Perfect timing!” Captain Reynolds exclaimed brightly, diving for the shuttle.

Jayne grabbed Ya’el’s elbow and practically hurled her towards the opening door. The three of them fell through the hatch and the shuttle was off the ground before Ya’el had even properly registered that she had landed on top of the captain with Jayne sprawled across both of their legs. Jayne was muttering curses and Captain Reynolds was laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes.

The door slid shut with a hiss and Ya’el looked up, slightly dazed. She saw River in the shuttle’s cockpit, calmly pulling back on the yoke and calling up coordinates at the same time. Feeling Ya’el’s eyes on her, the girl turned and flashed her a brief smile.

“Welcome aboard,” she said.

  


[1] Ker (Death, Destruction) is the daughter of Nyx (Night) in Hesiod’s Theogony. According to Hesiod’s account, she is the fifth of Nyx’s children.

[2] Horse shit

[3] Oh for the love of my giddy aunt

[4] From Lao Tzu

[5] Balls

[6] From _Serenity_

[7] From Emily Dickinsons's "The Soul selects her own Society (303)"

[8] The Torah, Leviticus 19:15

[9] Arrogant whore

[10] Bugger off

[11] Cunt

[12] Waste

[13] Fuck (Hebrew)


	14. Understood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

Mal took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his eyes thinking that there really must be something wrong with him. Getting into a bar brawl shouldn’t make him feel this good, all relaxed and comfortable in his own skin even with his shoulder hurting and two other people sprawled on top of him.

Having gotten himself somewhat under control, he took stock of the situation. Jayne, the new pilot, and he were all lying in a tangled heap of limbs just inside the shuttle door. Jayne was cursing and Ya’el Skylar was looking around in blank-faced bewilderment, which got Mal laughing again. Must of been a hell of a strange job interview, what with being questioned by a crazy girl and ending up in the middle of a bar fight.

“Thought we only got int’ tussles with folk as _supported_ the Alliance,” Jayne complained, extricating himself from the pile. “We branchin’ out now? ‘Cause at this rate there won’t be nowhere in th’ ‘verse we can get a gorram drink.”

He leaned down and offered a Skylar a hand. She took it automatically and let him pull her off Mal, which was something of a relief, since her weight was making Mal’s gun belt dig into his hip and her elbow was jabbing him in the ribs. If this girl ever got married, her other half better have ribs of steel, because she had the sharpest pair of elbows this side of a needle factory. Once she was on her feet, Mal could see that Skylar was a little the worse for wear. Her gleaming black hair had started to pull free of its club, she had a cut above one heavy black eyebrow, and there was a split in her prominent lower lip.

Mal could practically see the raised eyebrow Zoe would be giving for getting the green recruit into trouble so soon.

When Skylar first walked into the bar, Mal had to own she’d put his back up. She was exactly what he’d been afraid she would be, Alliance right down to the spit-polished boots and Londinium accent. The moment she spoke, he had heard the Operative’s voice in his head: _Let me take River Tam back home_. He’d been half ready to put a bullet in her just for that.

But River had liked her.

He didn’t know why, but right away he’d been able to tell that his girl was Reading something good off of this perfect Allied officer. It had made him feel guilty for judging the woman without knowing her, and that may have been why he’d been so pissed off when those guys at the bar started giving her a hard time. Not that he wouldn’t have had her back anyways, but the fact that he’d had the exact same knee-jerk reaction to the woman’s military posture and Core accent made him grumpy.

Jayne held his hand out to Mal and he took it, letting Jayne do most of the work of pulling him to his feet. He wasn’t quite sure how much damage he’d done to his healing shoulder, but there was no sense in doing more.

“Five days too soon for strenuous activity,” River said from the pilot’s chair.

_Oh, is it?_ Mal asked in silent, wry amusement as he went to stand beside her.

Aloud he said, “You tellin’ me what I can and can’t do, Albatross?”

River flashed him a brief, amused look, but underneath he could see that she was worried about him.

“Not giving orders on your boat, captain,” she said in that overly diffident voice that told him she was mocking him.

“Just bein’ a smart-aleck,” he growled in return.

If she needed to make a joke out of it, he was all for that. Better than her fretting by a long shot.

“Apologies,” River said, voice meek, eyes dancing. “Won’t happen again.”

Thankfully, the worry was leaving her face.

“ _Nà shì húshuō_ ,”[1] Mal said. “Ain’t no power in th’ ‘verse can shut you up. Don’t know why I put up with you half the time.”

River fluttered her eyelashes.

“ _Because I am so_ very _pretty_ ,”[2] she said.

Mal was about to start laughing, which would have lost him the upper hand in their little exchange, so he leaned down and kissed her instead. For a brief, searing moment, River kissed him back, then pulled away, face flushed, just in time to avoid crashing the shuttle into a forested hillside.

Mal grinned. Whatever game he and River had been playing, he thought he’d won.

When she had straightened the shuttle out, River signalled for him to switch places with her.  As soon as he sat down she was removing his jacket and going to work on the buttons of his shirt, intent on checking his stitches. Her expression indicated that, after his foolish stunt in the bar, she was not inclined to be gentle.

Okay, perhaps he hadn’t won.

She pushed his shirt off his shoulder and yanked the bandage back with very little consideration for the strength of the adhesive. Mal gave a stifled yelp, holding the shuttle steady with difficulty.

“You have pulled two stitches,” River told him with obvious displeasure.

 

***

 

Ya’el swallowed hard and tried to calm her breathing.

She was pretty sure, after the kiss in the bar, that River and Jayne were a couple. That being so, Captain Reynolds kissing River too was a disturbing development. Jayne did not seem like the kind of man to willingly let someone else touch what he considered his, and River… well, Ya’el frankly didn’t know _what_ to make of River, but one thing was certain, she was no lightskirt. All this being true, the only reason Ya’el could come up with that Jayne and River would allow the captain such liberties was that the captain wasn’t giving them a choice.

And that was the kind of situation she had hoped never to be near again.

A big, gloved hand grasped her face, tilting her head up.

“Let’s take a look at that eye,” Jayne said gruffly.

Already vibrating with nerves, Ya’el reacted to the unexpected contact before she could think, jerking back and drawing in a ragged breath. Then her mind caught up with her and she cursed herself. She knew better than that.

It was always worse when she showed fear.

 

***

 

Jayne watched raw panic flare up in the Alliance pilot’s eyes and then disappear, replaced by blank, hopeless resignation. He took a quick step back, cursing silently, and held up his hands.

He knew that look.

“River, Mal,” he said, keeping his voice low so as not to spook the new kid any more.

Before he’d joined _Serenity_ , Jayne had spent a lot of time in cat-houses. That was no secret. What was a secret was, when he found a working girl with that particular look in her eyes, his first impulse was not to fuck her, but to wrap her up in a warm blanket and send her home to his Ma. Because he knew where that came from: being hurt too bad too often, until a body didn’t even think about fighting back anymore.

When he was younger, he’d simply walked away, found a different girl, but then an old madam had taken him aside and told him some cold hard truths of the business. He wasn’t, she had said baldly, doing those girls any favors by avoiding them. They had to work, same as the others, and if they didn’t, whoever ran their house would probably hurt them just as bad as the _dīxià húndàns_ [3] that had put that look there in the first place.

Jayne was not, contrary to popular opinion, a stupid man. He knew that prostitutes couldn’t just go find some other way to live if whoring didn’t suit them. So he’d changed his approach. When he met a girl who flinched when she was touched or looked at people with that resigned look in her eyes, he paid her extra… and then was as gentle with her as a big, rough sumbitch like him could rightly hope to be.

River and Mal turned towards Jayne and Skylar, Jayne’s tone of voice putting them both immediately on high alert. “Jayne?” Mal said, voice soft and calm.

River had been checking Mal’s shoulder out, so his shirt was unbuttoned and his bandage was off. Wordlessly, River replaced the bandage before straightening and focusing her gaze on Skylar.

“ _The best way to prevent rape in the navy is for everyone to say yes,_ ”[4] River said in that weird way she had when she was reading people’s thoughts.

Skylar’s dark eyes widened and what little color she had slowly drained from her face. Jayne clenched his teeth. Gorramit! He’d been hoping he was wrong.

“Wha…? Sh…? Th…? Oh, _nàxiē mǔqīn tā mā de re zi_ ,”[5] Mal said, coming to a similar realization as Jayne.

“ _You’re not a hotshot anymore, Skylar, you’re a liability,_ ” River continued, “ _Nobody cares what happens to you._ ”

Skylar stared at River, skin chalky, breathing ragged.

“What?” she hissed, her voice shaking. “I don’t understand. _What does that mean_? How can you know… how can you have heard… only two people ever knew what was said that— that day. _How did you know_?”

“ _Tā mā de_ ,” Jayne said.

River moved to stand beside Jayne, looking up at Skylar with her ‘I’m-reading-you’ eyes.

“ _Chozeh_ ,[6] not _ro-eh_ ,”[7]she said. “I see, but I am not a prophet, don’t hold God’s Spirit. Like you: gifted. Went to an Alliance academy, was supposed to grow up to defend the _beacon of true civilization_. [8] But my gifts were in my head, not my hands, so they took it apart, forced the universe into my mind, made me see. Then they realized that I saw too much and they became afraid. Tried to destroy the ‘verse, fix their mistake, but the crew fought back, brought vengeance down on their heads, showed them what hell looked like.”

Okay, looked like they were going for full disclosure.

Damn. Jayne hated full disclosure.

“Alliance cut on her brain, turned her into a Reader,” he translated, seeing by Skylar’s expression that she didn’t understand and was about to lose her calm if somebody didn’t explain something. “Her brother broke her out, went on the run. Signed on as our doc so’s they could fly under th’ radar. Year later, turns out the Alliance wanted her back ‘cause of some secret intel she’d Read off a’ their brass when they were experimentin’ on her. We— well, Mal mostly— didn’t take too kindly to that idea, so we made sure it didn’t happen.”

“Protect our crew,” River said, “Protect our family.”

Skylar’s eyes flicked from River to Jayne to Mal, and Jayne could practically see her wondering what kind of screwed up family this was. River laughed.

“Different kind of family,” she said. “Bound by gold and promises instead of blood.”

She reached over and grabbed Jayne’s left hand, unsnapping the wrist of his glove and pulling it off. She held it up, placing her left hand beside it so Skylar could see both their wedding bands. The woman stared for a minute, then looked over at Mal. He sighed, clearly not any happier with this than Jayne was, but he held up his left hand to show her his own wedding band.

“Hope you understand th’ level a’ trust we’re placin’ in you, tellin’ you all this,” he said to Skylar, voice quiet, but forbidding.

River turned on him.

“Bad!” she snapped. “Duty of care has been violated, a stern captain can’t help her. Needs a loving brother: unconditional loyalty, unquestioning defence.”

Mal’s eyes widened and the shuttle wobbled dangerously as his hands slipped on the yoke.

“River!” he yelped as he got the shuttle back on the level.

“Whoa!” Jayne said. “Mal, if you crash us…”

Mal had that hangdog look he got when he knew he’d screwed up, but was too mule-headed to admit it. River folded her arms and glared at him. Mal glared back, but when River gestured for him to vacate the pilot’s chair, he complied, much to Jayne’s relief. Mal didn’t seem to have River’s ability for multitasking and Jayne was genuinely worried about ending up in a twisted pile of metal on some hillside

“Have I ever actually been in charge a’ this crew?” he asked Jayne plaintively, taking the opportunity to button his shirt back up.

“Yeah, captain,” Jayne said. “You’re in charge plenty. When we dealt with Niska. And Saffron. And Wei Shin—”

“None a’ those times were not my fault!” Mal protested.

“Those were th’ times you didn’t listen t’ Zoe. Or Inara, or River,” Jayne said.

“So I should just give up and let th’ womenfolk run th’ ship?” Mal asked.

“Don’t know ‘bout you, Mal,” Jayne said, shrugging, “But I like it better when we ain’t bein’ hunted by psychos, stranded by wanna-be whores, or held hostage by nut jobs as think they’re emperors.”

Mal sighed and turned to Skylar, and Jayne realized that their banter had been the captain’s way of avoiding dealing with her. Jayne didn’t blame him, she was in horrible shape, it was going to take a delicate touch to calm her down. Not a surprise, really. In the space of an hour, she’d gotten in a bar fight, ended up signing on with a crew that was certifiably _fēng le_ , and had her darkest secrets hauled out of her head by a mind reader with two husbands and a bratty attitude.

She had every right to look like she’d just seen a whole gorram army of ghosts.

Mal’s body language changed subtly. The closest Jayne could remember to seeing Mal look like this was when Saffron had first come on board, before they’d realized she was a lying _chāngjì_ ,[9] and not in a good way: he looked grumpy as hell about not being in charge of the situation, but determined to do right all the same.

“Listen,” Mal said, his voice still firm, but lacking the edge from earlier, “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. We got no reason t’ trust each other. Way I see it, nothin’ but time is gonna fix that. But River, she already knows what goes on inside our heads and she thinks we can make this work. That means you’re my crew, and th’ one thing you gotta understand about me is, I will do anything t’ protect my crew. Anything. _Dǒng ma_?”

Skylar stared at Mal for a long moment. Then she let out a horrible, broken sound and sank down to the floor of the shuttle, drawing her knees up and burying her head in her arms. Jayne winced as the woman’s shoulders started shaking and Mal looked at River.

“Zoe,” was all she said.

Jayne didn’t get it, but Mal seemed to. He stepped forward, crouched down beside the Alliance pilot, and put one firm hand on her shoulder. He didn’t soothe or caress like he did when he was comforting River, but he didn’t let go either, and Jayne realized that he’d seen Mal do this before, with Zoe after Wash died.

River had been telling him to treat Skylar like he would Zoe.

That made sense, Skylar was a soldier too, and Jayne knew from the time he’d spent with _Serenity’s_ former Browncoats that soldiers had a particular kind of comradeship between them that Jayne, as a former merc, didn’t understand.

Quietly, so as not to disturb what was going on on the shuttle floor, Jayne moved to the cockpit and sat down in the empty co-pilot’s chair. River looked over at him and smiled a small, sad smile.

It was maybe ten minutes later when _Serenity’s_ hiding place came into view. River hit the flaps and turned the shuttle, settling her deftly into the valley and activating the remote docking control. _Serenity’s_ second shuttle bay opened and River maneuvered the shuttle into the docking locks. They attached and pulled the shuttle in and it settled into place with a soft jolt. The bay door closed and the interior lights came up. River flipped the switches that connected fuel, electric, and life support, then shut the cockpit down.

She slid out of her chair and went over to Mal and Skylar, scooping up Skylar’s duffel bag as she went. Skylar’s head came up, but she was still huddled into herself, shivering slightly. Mal was crouched calmly beside her, elbows on his knees. River stopped in front of them.

“We’re home,” she said.

She held out her free hand to Skylar and, after a moment’s wary contemplation, Skylar wiped her face and took it, getting clumsily to her feet. River led her to the shuttle door and out into the corridor. She turned and led the way down the stairs and out onto the catwalk. She stopped at the railing so that Skylar could look out at the cargo bay.

“This is _Serenity_ ,” River said softly, “And she is very pleased to meet you.”

 

***

 

Mal and Jayne had ended up in some ridiculous situations in their time, but sitting in the maintenance shaft under the bridge corridor _pretending_ to work on the wiring, while _actually_ listening for trouble on the bridge had to be one of the more ridiculous ones. It at least came in a close second, right behind that episode on Triumph with the wagon, the soft cotton dress, and the pretty floral bonnet…

… Okay, maybe third. There had been the whole ‘Jayne-is-a-bona-fide-folk-hero’ incident on Higgins Moon…

… And that time on Paquin with the drum set, the talking raven, and the elephant shot glasses…

… Okay, this probably made the top twenty most ridiculous Mal-and-Jayne situations. Maybe the top thirty. _Definitely_ the top thirty.

It wasn’t that they didn’t trust Skylar, not exactly. They hadn’t known her long enough to not trust her. They just had a certain— totally understandable— amount of apprehension about the fact that River was playing Skylar’s co-pilot for the hop from Ithendra to Athens.

Mal had intended to show Skylar the controls himself, but River had vetoed that idea and Mal couldn’t help but agree with her. Skylar had recovered for the most part from her traumatic introduction to _Serenity’s_ crew— or, to be more accurate, had managed to recover her military-issue composure— but she was still pretty wary around Mal and Jayne. Mal had seen this kind of reaction plenty, he knew what was going on, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Soldiers were taught in basic training never to show weakness. If they did, their drill instructors came down on them like several tons of bricks. It was basic survival training, they needed to toughen up or they would never survive their first firefight, but there was a definite downside. Because once a soldier left the training ground, they were back in the real world, and in the real world, everyone came across a situation that had them screaming for their mamas sooner or later. Unless they knew and trusted their commanding officers, the poor kids would usually panic at that point, thinking the wrath of God was about to come down on their heads. Nine times out of ten, they clammed up, went all quiet and blank like Skylar was doing right now, and there was nothing you could do but wait it out. But, while Skylar was watching Mal and Jayne like she expected them to order her to clean latrines with a toothbrush at any moment, she didn’t seem to be scared of River.

Mal had been puzzled about that— River was, after all, the eeriest part of their eerie-assed operation and had freaked Skylar out pretty bad in the shuttle— but River had explained it as best she could.

“Like calls to like, both strangers in a strange land,” she had said.

As far as Mal could figure, she was saying that Skylar was most comfortable with River because they were both out of place.

At least, that’s what he thought River had meant. She could equally well have been saying that she was leaving him and Jayne and marrying their newest addition.

And yeah, he was _not_ going to share that particular interpretation with Jayne.

Mal was startled out of his labyrinthine musings by the rattle of the grate above him.

After the Maidenhead brawl and the subsequent River-knocking-Simon-out-and-locking-them-off-the-bridge debacle, they had resecured the access grate on the catwalk with pins that could be removed by hand— or, if someone was in the shaft, by a kick to the grille— and hadn’t bolted down the grate in the bridge corridor at all. They ever got locked off— or on— the bridge again, they’d be able to fix the problem quicker. It was always good to have options.

He and Jayne had gone in from the catwalk and hadn’t been intending to use the bridge access, except in an emergency. What they hadn’t counted on was having Skylar leave the bridge, come down the corridor, and remove the grate. She crouched over the gap, her face impassive except for one slightly raised eyebrow. They looked up at the new pilot in dumb surprise.

“Hi,” Mal said, flashing Skylar his most charming smile.

It did not have any discernible effect.

“Captain Reynolds,” Skylar said, her voice remaining utterly level, “River said I would find you here. We need assistance. We appear to be having… communication issues.”

“Uh… sure,” Mal said.

They clambered awkwardly out of the maintenance shaft, both of them slightly flushed with embarrassment, and followed Skylar up to the bridge. _Serenity_ was on autopilot and River was leaning on the console, one long, bare dancer’s foot tracing agitated patterns in the air. There was a crease between her brows, indicating that she was frustrated, but her voice, when she spoke, was amused.

 “Peekaboo,” she said. “Babies put blankets over their faces, think mommy can’t see them.”

“We’re just keepin’ an eye on you, _bǎobèi_ ,” Jayne said. “After what happened with the other two, you can’t blame us for worryin’.”

Mal saw Skylar’s eyes get wary at the mention of her predecessors, but she didn’t say anything.

“Okay, what’s this communications issue?” Mal asked, deciding to skip right over all the awkward subjects swirling around in the room.

River stiffened and grimaced, shaking her head.

“New player in the orchestra,” she said. “Have different sheet music. Flute is playing Lu’s 7th Symphony, cello is playing Heiller’s Sonata No. 108. Discordant.”

Mal winced. He didn’t know much about music, especially not classical, but he knew enough to realize that different instruments playing different songs at the same time was upsetting for everybody concerned.

“Sorry little one,” he said. “What can we do?”

“Give the flute and the cello the same sheet,” River said, gesturing at herself, then at Skylar.

Mal thought about it for a minute, then nodded and turned to Skylar.

“Okay,” he said, “Walk me through th’ conversation.”

Skylar’s face was absolutely blank, and when she spoke, her voice was clipped and toneless, a soldier giving a sit-rep.

“I asked for a rundown on the nav-link,” she said. “It’s clearly been retrofitted, and I wanted to know the parameters. River said— she said… Sir, permission to speak frankly?”

Mal responded to Skylar’s military poise by falling into sergeant mode. He drew himself up and gave a curt nod.

“I understand that what she says may make some kind of sense, even when it sounds like nonsense,” Skylar said, “But that doesn’t mean I can understand her. When she talks, I have about a 1 in 10 chance of figuring out what she’s saying. Maybe nearer to 1 in 15.”

Mal nodded.

For the sake of convenience, they’d stuck to using ‘aphasia’ to describe River’s odd speech patterns. It explained well enough what was going on, even if it wasn’t true. However, having a word for River’s problem didn’t do jack to help Skylar actually understand her.

“No shame in that, Skylar,” he said, relaxing out of his military stance with a sigh. “Way I figure it, between us Jayne and I manage t’ figure out what she’s sayin’ two times outa three, and that’s with years a’ practice. When she first came onboard, weren’t nobody knew what she was talkin’ about. So, you asked about th’ nav-link parameters. What did River say?”

“She said—” Skylar began.

“ _The firefly will not fly helplessly into the spider’s web a second time_ ,” River said, probably Reading her own words out of Skylar’s memory. “ _The sunshine and the dinosaur redirect the waterways, keep This Land safe_.”

Skylar remained impassive, except for a twitch in her left eye.

“Uhuh,” Mal said, nodding even though he wasn’t actually sure yet what River had meant. “And what were you thinkin’ about at th’ time?”

Skylar frowned.

“ _Thinking about_ , sir?” she asked carefully.

“Yeah,” Mal said. “Sometimes she responds t’ what we think ‘stead a’ what we say.”

Skylar’s formidable reserve cracked a bit at that, her expression conveying her intense discomfort with this idea.

“Y’ get used to it,” Jayne offered helpfully.

“So, what were you thinkin’?” Mal repeated encouragingly.

“I suppose I was wondering why anyone would rewire the nav-link,” Skylar managed to get out. “There’s no practical reason to do that unless you’re trying to increase response time, and with a ship like this…”

She trailed off, clearly reluctant to actually come out and say that _Serenity_ maneuvered like a pregnant pigeon with brain damage, and that no amount of souping up the nav connection was going to change that.

Mal nodded, River’s meaning finally clicking into place.

“Okay, she was answerin’ th’ question you were thinkin’ about, but since you weren’t here when any a’ that went down, no way in God’s ‘verse you coulda figured it out,” he said.

Skylar arched an eyebrow questioningly.

“Ship got hijacked a while back— ship’s th’ firefly, ‘case you hadn’t conjured,” he explained. “Hijacker fused our nav-link, locked us on course for a scrappers’ net— that’s th’ spider’s web.”

Jayne snorted.

“He’s leavin’ out th’ details,” he told Skylar with a smirk. “Like how exactly that little _tā liègǒu_ [10] that shafted us managed t’ get t’ th’ hijackin’ in th’ first place.”

Mal directed a glare Jayne’s way.

“You got no room t’ talk,” he said. “Way I remember, you were taken in easier’n any of us, and she weren’t even usin’ her wiles on you direct.”

River regarded them both archly.

“First time sharing the same wife was proposed,” she said coolly. “Prophetic.”

Both Mal and Jayne froze, realizing with a certain amount of horror that she was, technically, right.

Mal cleared his throat.

“Anyhow,” he said hastily, “After it were all over, Kaylee— she’s th’ Sunshine, River calls Kaylee Sunshine— and Wash— I’m assumin’ he’s th’ dinosaur, all them plastic dinosaurs were his— rewired th’ console— redirected th’ waterways— so’s nobody could mess with it like that again.”

Unlike their previous prospective pilots, Skylar knew that _Serenity_ was missing a hefty portion of her crew. River had, over Mal and Jayne’s protests, explained their current situation over dinner the first night. She hadn’t gone into details— or, more accurately, the details she had gone into had been stated in terms that their newbie couldn’t understand and that neither Mal nor Jayne had volunteered to translate— but Skylar knew that their previous pilot was dead, their first mate, their mechanic, and their doc were MIA, and that _Serenity_ was in the middle of a rescue mission. This level of sharing didn’t make Mal any too comfortable, since it meant that, if Skylar didn’t work out, they weren’t going to be able to just let her walk away.

Which meant that River was pretty damned certain Skylar was going to work out, although Mal was damned if he knew why.

And, speaking of River, she’d gotten a dreamy expression on her face while Mal was explaining things and, now that he was finished, she stepped lightly across the bridge, rose up on her toes, and gave Mal a deep, searing kiss.

Mal let out a very undignified whine. Skylar flushed and averted her eyes and Jayne got that intense look he got when he was looking at something really gorram sexy.

“What was that for?” Mal squeaked out when River pulled back about two and a half seconds before the kiss became unfit for public consumption.

River rolled her eyes and Jayne snorted.

“She always goes doe-eyed ‘n kissy when you figure out what she’s sayin’ captain,” he said.

“Women may be meant to be loved, not understood,”[11] River said with a brilliant smile, “But being understood is still nice.”

 

***

 

A gust of bitter wind blew across the Canal Street Agora of Xenothyles, sending a blast of icy air straight down the back of Ya’el’s neck. Ya’el suppressed a pained squeak and buried her nose more deeply in the collar of her heavy jacket. Captain Reynolds had lent her the jacket before she had ventured off the ship in such frigid temperatures and it was enormous on her, the hem hanging down below her hips and the sleeves all but swallowing her hands. That was all to the good as far as she was concerned, however, because it meant that she could wear every warm shirt she owned underneath it.

They were trying to make their way across the agora and back to the docks, but there was some sort of ceremony happening— and what kind of mental deficients, Ya’el wondered, scheduled an outdoor ceremony _in the middle of winter_ in a city that was _practically in its planet’s arctic circle_?— and it was impeding their progress. They’d managed to reach the halfway point fairly easily, but they had come up against a crowd-control barrier at the foot of the makeshift platform that, according to the huge cortex screens that had been erected around the agora, was the focal point of the proceedings.

The platform stood in front of a lumpy, cloth-shrouded monolith in the center of the square. The object’s irregular shape and and suspicious placement suggested to Ya’el that it was some sort of statue, which was not good news. Ya’el had been to statue dedication ceremonies before and they were longer and more tedious than sedr dinner at her Great-aunt Miriam’s. She and River were likely to freeze to death before the… Mayor? Governor? Senator?... on the platform was finished her opening remarks.

Ya’el couldn’t remember where she’d gotten the idea that every border world city was hot and arid. Logically speaking, there had to be cold _regions_ even on the hottest of border planets. But somehow, whenever she pictured the Rim, she pictured it like the backwater town where she’d met the crew of _Serenity_ : hot as Hades and dry as dust.

Xenothyles was neither.

Ya’el shifted the bag over her shoulder and tried to keep from losing sensation in her fingers. Beside Ya’el, River hunched her shoulders, glaring at the swirling snow as though it were sentient and capable of malice aforethought.

Ya’el wasn’t certain how she had been elected to escort little River Reynolds on this “requisition run” in the first place. Nobody, except for River herself, seemed to think it was a good idea. When the girl had casually mentioned at breakfast that Ya’el and she would be going into town after they landed on Athens, the muscles in Captain Reynolds’s jaw and shoulders had locked up so tight that Ya’el had been worried they might be about to suffer permanent damage. Jayne, meanwhile, had exploded into a loud rant filled with colorful language and uncouth Chinese idioms, the gist of which was that River was not going anywhere without him or the captain to look after her.

River had listened attentively, then repeated that she and Ya’el would be going into the city that afternoon. And that had been that.

Except not quite, because just before they had left, Captain Reynolds had pulled Ya’el aside to give her the jacket and, at the same time, tell her that if anything happened to River under her watch, she’d best start running, because there was nowhere in the ‘verse she would be able to hide from him. Then, while she was still trying to collect herself from that encounter, Jayne had appeared and handed her a gun and a thigh holster, telling her she wasn’t going out with River without being properly armed. As she was fastening the weapon to her hip, the big mercenary had proceeded to inform Ya’el that River could take care of herself in a fight, but that she had a knack for scaring folk so bad they lost their heads, and that it was Ya’el’s job to make sure that River didn’t end up arrested for being a spy, strapped into a straightjacket for being insane, or burnt at the stake for being a witch.

Which, apparently, had almost happened once, as unbelievable as that might seem.

With these encouraging words echoing in her ears, Ya’el had followed the strange little seer down the gangplank and into what had to be one of the coldest cities in the ‘verse.

Where, as previously stated, the locals had chosen to have a dedication ceremony in a breezy agora that was causing Ya’el and River, along with a large portion of the city’s population, to get frostbite.

Something the politician on the platform was saying had caught River’s attention. The girl was standing very still, head cocked, eyes staring at something a thousand kilometers away. Ya’el frowned and turned her attention to the middle-aged woman in the expensive red jacket, but all she heard was, “… thank the Chair of the St. Stanislaus Foundation for her tireless work on behalf of…”

Something Captain Reynolds had said yesterday came back to Ya’el and she looked at River sharply. Maybe it wasn’t what the woman was _saying_ , maybe it was what she was _thinking_.

“ _I have a world inside me, waiting to emerge,_ ” River said, her voice low, but clear and carrying.

“ _I open my lips, but I cannot speak._

_I stand frozen, watching._

_The moment passes, the world dies,_

_And no one sees_

_Except me._ ”

Ya’el blinked, completely lost. She got the bit about standing frozen— they were doing that at this very moment— but the rest…?

One of the techs on the other side of the crowd control barrier, who had, apparently, heard River talking, was now moving over towards them, an excited look on her heavily pierced, heavily made-up face.

“Oh my God,” the tech said enthusiastically to River. “I recognized that. You’re, like, that poet, right? The one that, like, stood on the rock for three days on… I don’t remember which planet. But you’re her, right? ‘Eternity is just a moment, and it passes all too quickly’?”

“Flattering misattribution,” River said, smiling and shaking her head. “‘Eternity’ is one of Shi’an Fu’s most beautiful poems.”

“Sorry, my bad,” the tech said, seemingly unphased, “I mixed you two up. You’re the other one, the one who… Oh, wow, this is so cool. I…”

“DiDi!” barked a big guy with a five-o’clock shadow, an expensive coat, and cheap shoes. “What the hell!”

“Sorry, Stan,” DiDi said, turning excitedly to the big guy, “But this is just _so_ awesome. Do you know who this _is_?”

Stan looked down at River impatiently, then turned back to DiDi with a glare.

“No,” he snapped. “And in case you had forgotten, we’re _working_.”

“But Stan!” DiDi pouted, “She’s _famous_.”

Stan froze, then turned slowly back to River, a look of intense concentration on his unshaven face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I don’t quite recognize you Ms…?”

“I am Níngjìng,”[12] River murmured without missing a beat.

“She’s that poet, Stan,” DiDi said happily. “Not the one who stood on the rock reciting ‘Eternity,’ the other one.”

Stan’s transition from scowl to smile was instantaneous, but his version of a smile reminded Ya’el of a shark.

“Of course,” he said, holding out one mittened hand. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you with the hood. I’m a big fan of your work. I’m so glad you chose to grace our ceremony with your presence. I don’t suppose we could persuade you to say a few words in honor of the occasion?”

 River took the man’s hand with a smile that made Ya’el’s already chilled hands go icy. She recognized that smile. She’d worn it herself, sitting in a cockpit with 30 Gs of acceleration and two plasma cannons at her fingertips. It was the ‘I’m-gonna-do-something-spectacularly-stupid-and-God-himself-can’t-stop-me’ smile.

“I would be honored,” River said.

_Drek_. [13]

Before Ya’el knew what was happening, they were being hustled through the barrier and River was being whisked off by two men in fur-lined jackets wielding make-up brushes and talking so fast Ya’el couldn’t even be sure they were speaking English.

“Wait!” Ya’el said weakly. “Ri— um, Ni— uh… that is, we can’t just…”

“Hello, I’m Dar Williams,” said a tooth-achingly handsome man with blond hair and a Core accent. “What is your name, Ma’am?”

And Ya’el found herself staring at an old-fashioned microphone.

“I… uh… Skyl— hey!” Ya’el stammered, flicking her eyes to the side where a cameraman was aiming a very large hi-def quantum recorder at them. “What…?”

“And how do you know Níngjìng, Ms. Skye?” Dar Williams asked, flashing his very straight, very white teeth.

Ya’el opened her mouth, intending to say ‘I’m a pilot on a transport ship and she’s my captain’s wife.’ But as the sentence was in the process of traveling from her brain to her tongue, River got into an argument with the stylists and the woman in the red jacket who might be the Mayor— or maybe the Governor— accidentally brushed the microphone with her coat. Distracted by the possibility of disaster on the one hand and the screech of feedback on the other, Ya’el stumbled so badly over the words that what actually came out was:

“I’m— she— my— um… wife?”

 

***

 

Mal wasn’t all that surprised when Skylar met him and Jayne in the cargo bay looking like a prisoner reporting for her own execution. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have predicted that Skylar and River would get into trouble out on their own, but River had been determined and, while Mal might be an expert at fighting losing battles, he didn’t feel like fighting one against River.

He enjoyed kissing her way too much.

Mal and Jayne had been in town reupping on ammo, an errand that had led to Mal discovering, quite belatedly, that the crew had received a handsome consideration from Nikolai Kaverin for taking out the commandos at his birthday party.

“Why th’ hell didn’t you say somethin’?” Mal had groused at Jayne when the former mercenary revealed where he’d gotten the cashy money to pay for their munitions.

“Figured you’d get tetchy about it, Mal,” Jayne said, shrugging. “Ain’t like we didn’t earn it, but you get on your high horse ‘bout th’ damndest things.”

Mal refused to concede the point out loud, but he did allow Jayne to use Kaverin’s money to pay for the ammunition (and grenades; experience had taught him never to refuse Jayne his grenades). And for the refuel and some spare parts while they were at it. And he had to own, as they approached the ship, that getting rewarded by some rich guy like he was a pet dog didn’t hurt as bad as all that, not when it kept his crew armed and in the sky.

So when he saw Skylar waiting for them at the top of the ramp, hands behind her, back ramrod straight, he was in a good enough mood that he didn’t immediately light into her, even though she looked guilty as sin.

“Captain,” she said stiffly.

Behind Mal, Jayne tensed— apparently he wasn’t in quite as good a mood as the the captain.

“Where’s River?” Jayne barked.

Skylar blinked, momentarily wrongfooted, then collected herself.

“River is in the mess,” she said. “Captain, there is… something you need to see.”

Jayne relaxed a little now that he knew River was on board. Mal heaved a sigh.

“Lead the way, Skylar,” Mal said, wondering what on God’s green earth kind of trouble his crew had gotten into now.

River was indeed in the mess, sitting at the table with a strange collection of items spread out in front of her. Mal saw two bottles and a jar of unknown origin, several pieces of clothing of various materials and styles, a sewing kit, a hair dryer, and what looked very much like a pair of brass knuckles. River looked up briefly as the three of them filed into the mess, then went back to carefully examining the seams of a knee-length pseudo-leather jacket.

“Everything alright, darlin’?” Mal asked, reassured by the fact that she appeared uninjured and was engaged with an object that existed in the here and now.

“At the quantum level, the universe is made up of probability, not certainty,” River replied. “Statistically, therefore, the improbable must occasionally occur.”

Jayne snorted. Mal smiled affably. Skylar said nothing. Loudly.

“Good enough,” Mal said, and gestured for Skylar to proceed.

She led him and Jayne to the bridge and brought them over to the pilot’s cortex feed. There was a vid on the screen, a paused image of a plastic-faced blond newscaster in a snowy square with a big, blurry, cloth-wrapped object behind him. Skylar stood beside the console, back still ramrod straight.

“Sir, I take full responsibility,” Skylar said. “I was told to keep anything untoward from occurring, and I failed. However, I cannot give an adequate explanation of how, exactly, this happened.”

She gestured at the screen.

Mal felt a morbid sort of gleeful curiosity coming over him. Whatever this was, he could already tell it was going to be good.

“Show me, Skylar,” he said.

Skylar hit the button and the newscaster began speaking.

“ _Welcome to Xenothyles, Athens. My name is Dar Williams and I am reporting to you from the Canal Street Agora where Mayor Alexandra Braisweidder and Gregory Tanakous III are about to dedicate the new Unification War Memorial_.”

The vid panned to a middle-aged woman in a red jacket and a portly man in an enormous furry hat. Then the angle changed and Mal was looking at the woman standing in front of a microphone.

“ _Ladies and Gentlemen,”_ she said, “ _It is my great honor to welcome you to the Unification War Memorial Dedication Ceremony. Ten years ago two thousand brave men and woman of the Allied Army laid down their lives to defend Athens from Independent forces in the Battle of Sophocles Ridge. Today, we honor their sacrifice…_ ”

Skylar pressed a button and skipped forward, cutting short what Mal presumed was a lengthy speech. It was a good thing, since even the beginning of it had made Mal so mad, he had to forcibly unclench his jaw. Behind him, Jayne shifted restlessly, perhaps nervous that Mal was going to go all U-Day on him. Skylar hit play again and the reporter was back on.

“ _That was the Mayor of Xenothyles, giving her dedication speech for the new Unification War Memorial. And now, ladies and gentlemen, this is so exciting, we have some unexpected guests with us today: acclaimed poet and performer Níngjìng and her wife Skye._ ”

Mal started and Jayne let out a surprised breath as the Chinese word for ‘serenity’ crossed the reporter’s  lips, then choked at the words ‘wife’ and ‘Skye.’ Before they could recover, the shot changed to a candid image of River and Skylar standing at the foot of the platform, only to be replaced by an image of River behind the microphone.

River was dressed like she had been when she left the ship, wearing her one pair of pants and all bundled up in Kaylee’s spare coat, but someone had put dark lipstick and deep blue eyeshadow on her face and she looked at once sophisticated and utterly mysterious. Mal had a moment of panic, seeing River there on the cortex feed, her face out there for the ‘verse to see. But then he realized that she’d been smart about it. The hood of Kaylee’s coat obscured her jawline, she had a lock of her hair falling artfully in front of her face, and although she wasn’t wearing her tinted glasses, she was avoiding looking directly at any of the cameras. Anybody trying to get a face or retina scan off this video would be out of luck.

River looked out at the crowd for a long moment from behind her dark hair.

 

“ _Names in stone,_ ” she said quietly,

“ _Casualties of war,_

_Heroes for all time._

_Death in war is glory,_

_But death is not glorious._

_War is not glorious._

_True heroes kill for peace._

_“Reek of blood, sound of screams,_

_Friend and enemy_

_Lying side by side, like lovers—_

_Two names to be remembered,_

_But only one set in stone._

_Victory builds statues,_

_But the dead are all the same._

_“Shells exploding, ears ringing,_

_No room for hope, no room for mercy._

_War takes away all choices_

_Except one: why to kill._

_Death in war is glory_

_Because true heroes kill to save others,_

_Rather than themselves._ ”

 

Mal couldn’t breath. He stood there watching the feed, listening to River’s voice and feeling the words deep in his gut.

She could have been quoting something. That’s how she talked half the time. But she wasn’t, Mal knew she wasn’t, the same way he knew that Jayne loved guns, Kaylee loved strawberries, and River loved _Serenity_. Those words felt familiar when he heard them, like he already knew them in his bones. There was no way some Core-world poet could write words that sounded like they belonged to him, which meant that River had to have made them up herself.

“Yours,” River said softly from behind him.

Mal turned to look at her as she stepped onto the bridge. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see the traces of kohl around her eyes and the burgundy tint to her lips, like she’d tried to wipe the makeup off, but hadn’t quite gotten it all.

He swallowed and opened his mouth, but couldn’t speak. River, however, heard the question that was caught in his throat.

“Sound like yours because they are,” she said. “My words, but the rest belongs to you. Putting up a fancy statue to in memory of something they’d never seen. But you saw. Tanner Butte, New Beijing, Serenity Valley, Sophocles Ridge: different names, same battle. Had to tell them, had to show them what they were actually remembering.”

Mal closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he opened them, stepped towards River, buried his hands in her wild dark hair, and kissed her as though the ‘verse and all the worlds in it were coming to an end. And, being River, she didn’t have to ask questions, didn’t have to make him explain where this was coming from. She just wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Finally, the kiss gentled, then ended. Mal rested his forehead against River’s, his hands still buried in her soft, silky hair.

“Thank you, _ài rén_ ,” he said hoarsely.

“ _What love can do, that dares love attempt_ ,”[14] River murmured.

She tilted her head up to kiss him again, but this time, Mal was aware enough to remember they had an audience. He glanced around sheepishly and saw Jayne looking amused and Skylar… well, he’d never seen such a stoney face or such a precise military stance in all his born days.

Too bad she was blushing so hard she could act as a beacon for a starliner.

Mal flushed a little himself and Jayne laughed.

“Like a man once told me,” he said, “You two need t’ go take care a’ this.”

Clearly he was taking great pleasure in throwing Mal’s own words back at him, but Mal’s brain was too addled by the vid and River’s kisses to mind.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he said, scooping River up and heading for the door. “Jayne’s right, an’ if’n we stick around, he’ll only gloat on it.”

River just laughed and curled herself further into his arms.

 

***

 

Jayne watched Mal and River leave the bridge and wondered how in the gorram ‘verse this was his life. Now he knew what Mal had felt like back at the Kaverins’ mansion; it was _tā mā de_ surreal, sending his wife and her other husband off to take care of business because they’d gotten too randy to function.

Jayne turned his attention to Skylar, who looked like she was about to catch on fire, she was blushing so hard. He smirked, enjoying her discomfort, but he knew River wouldn’t like it if he tortured her too much, so he settled for a smug, “They do that. Sometimes they even make it to a bunk ‘fore they get their clothes off.”

Skylar turned her dark, bewildered eyes on him and Jayne sighed. He’d clearly been on _Serenity_ too long, because taunting her really wasn’t much fun. He felt kind of guilty, like he’d been pulling a puppy’s tail or something.

“C’mon,” he said resignedly, jerking his head towards the mess. “Got some rotgut, should take the edge off.”

The way Skylar obediently followed Jayne off the bridge did nothing to decrease her resemblance to a puppy.

He cleared the table— nothing there would be really hurt by relocation and he suspected that Mal was right now in the process of making River too happy and dozy to yell at him— and produced the whiskey and a couple of glasses. He poured them each a generous measure, handed one glass to Skylar, and tossed back the contents of his own in one gulp. Skylar imitated him and promptly choked, although she did it so stoically that it didn’t seem like a really big deal. Jayne refilled both their glasses and sat, trusting by now that Skylar would follow his lead.

One thing to be said for soldier types, they were pretty easy to predict.

“Guess you ain’t crewed on many family-run vessels,” Jayne said as Skylar sipped her second glass of whiskey more circumspectly.

Skylar looked at him, calculating his intentions, then lowered her head in agreement.

“Takes some getting used to,” Jayne said, nodding. “When I came on board, made me terrible nervous. Little Kaylee was runnin’ around huggin’ and kissin’ all and sundry, Zoe n’ Wash was sexin’ on every clear surface, and Mal n’ Inara was arguin’ over everything like an old married couple even though they weren’t so much as holdin’ hands. Took me a long time t’ get comfortable.”

Skylar took another sip of whiskey, then spoke without taking her eyes off the glass.

“Until last year, I had spent my entire adult life in the Navy,” she said, her voice low and tightly controlled. “It was… my life was simple. Ordered. Rules and regulations. No complications. Then I got assigned to an R & D detail on Athens. The Raptor Cage— that’s what we called it, I don’t remember it’s real name, but it was highly classified, so that’s probably best— it was too insular and had too many civilian contractors to really function like a regular naval base. No real chain of command, very few rules, and what regulations there were got broken on a regular basis. We— the scientists, the engineers, the programmers, the test pilots— we were… friends. Almost a family, I think, although my family wasn’t close, so I don’t have much to compare it to. I was there for ten months and… I never really got comfortable, and I missed the simplicity of having clear rules to follow, but even so… those were the happiest ten months of my life.”

Jayne winced. Didn’t need to be a Reader to hear a Bossy-the-Cow-sized ‘but’ coming. Even if he hadn’t known that one of Skylar’s ‘friends’ was currently in prison and that, after the R & D stint, she had been reassigned somewhere where she’d been raped and told to shut up about it, the tone of her voice was unmistakeable.

Jayne didn’t say anything, just waited. Sure enough, after a long moment, she went on.

 “I thought it was better,” she said. “I thought having friends instead of fellow soldiers… that it was better. But then a mission went wrong and Ben put us ahead of the job and we lost… everything. He got court-martialed and they broke up the team, gave us all the worst shit-assignments they could find, because we were all compromised.” She finally looked at Jayne, her face closed and hard. “And now I think it would have been better if I’d never heard of any of them,” she said flatly.

Jayne scratched at his beard. _Tā mā dì dìyù_ ,[15] he was no good at this heart-to-heart _lā shǐ_. He took a gulp of whiskey.

“ _Serenity_ ain’t no warship and we ain’t no soldiers,” he said gruffly. “Mal was, back in th’ day— you’ve prob’ly figured that— but after th’ war, he decided he wasn’t gonna be at th’ beck ‘n call a no one. Now he only answers to himself and— I was gonna say God, but he don’t like God much, don’t think he’d cross th’ street for him if there was candy on the other side and this one was on fire. River though, he answers t’ River. Guess you could say she’s his higher power.”

“I don’t think I understand,” Skylar said.

“Guess what I’m sayin’ is,” Jayne said, “Folk on this ship don’t take orders from nobody ‘cept Mal, and he don’t take orders from nobody ‘cept River. And you ever put th’ job ahead a’ th’ crew, Mal and River’ll both kick your ass so hard you’ll be sittin’ on you head. So you don’t gotta worry ‘bout th’ crew bein’ friendly— out here in th’ black, sometimes friends is all you got. Rules though… well, you might have t’ do without most of ‘em. Mal ain’t never met a rule he didn’t try t’ do some sort a’ violence to. Remind me t’ tell you ‘bout th’ chess tournament some time.”

“The captain… plays chess?” Skylar said dubiously, clearly thinking that Mal wasn’t the chess type.

Jayne grinned.

“Nope,” he said.

Skylar blinked rapidly. Jayne got to his feet and rummaged through one of the kitchen drawers until he found the battered tall card deck that had been gathering dust since Simon had been arrested. He brought it back to the table and sat down.

“Now,” he said, beginning to shuffle the deck of cards, “One a’ th’ things y’ gotta know so’s you can make friends on th’ rim is how t’ engage in some friendly gamblin’. You ever played tall card?”

Skylar shook her head and Jayne nodded.

“By th’ way,” he said as he started to deal, “I gotta ask. How’d you get pegged as River’s wife?”

 

***

 

River wrapped one leg around Mal’s back and pulled him closer, arching up to allow him deeper into her body.

(Making love to Mal was like dancing a waltz with an orchestra playing and silk rustling and a chandelier glittering overhead: forward, back, touch, part, step, follow.)

Mal ran his hand up her thigh and smiled at her, eyes warm and calm.

(River loved Mal’s eyes. Blue as blue— both her husbands had blue eyes, but Jayne’s were swirling sea blue-green, while Mal’s were pure autumn-sky azure— and filled with all the ugliness in the ‘verse… and all the beauty. Mal carried so much darkness in him, but he never gave in to it. He remained true to all that was good and right, even in the face of horrors like Serenity Valley. Looking into Mal’s eyes gave River hope. She too was a creature of the dark, but she had to believe that she could still choose to do what was right. If she did not, she would go mad.)

“So beautiful, _wǒ xīn'ài de_ ,”[16] Mal murmured. “So beautiful.”

“My beloved,” River repeated, gasping as the new angle increased her pleasure tenfold.

(My beloved, _wǒ xīn'ài de, watashi no saiai no hito, lî ḏî ḏî, agapiméni mou_ , _moy lyubimyy, meus amore, mio amato, mi amado, mon bien-aimé. **[17]**)_

Mal lowered his head to kiss her, slow and deep.

River kissed back.

(Kiss. kiss back. Step forward. Step back. My beloved.)

 

 

 

[1] That’s bullshit

[2] Paraphrase from “Serenity”

[3] Low-down bastards

[4] An idea repeated by personnel in various militaries and navies over time, beginning on Earth in the twentieth centuries.

[5] Those motherfucking whoresons

[6] Seer (Hebrew)

[7] Prophet (Hebrew)

[8] From _Serenity_

[9] Streetwalker

[10] She-hyena

[11] Paraphrase of a quote by Oscar Wilde

[12] Serenity

[13] Shit (Yiddish)

[14] Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_

[15] Fucking hell

[16] My beloved

[17] My beloved (in order: Chinese, Japanese, Hebrew, Greek, Russian, Latin, Italian, Spanish, French)


	15. Madams and Pirates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

Bethan, captain of the Cobra Class armed transport _Jezebel_ , stared coolly down the barrel of her gun at S’brasky, lackey to Mikhail Volkov.

“You know,” she said conversationally, “I’ve been looking for some new artwork for my stateroom. I was thinking a LaCossa sculpture, but now I have a better idea. How about I break every bone in your body, then render the fat off your skeleton _while you’re still alive_ , and have the bones mounted so I can admire my fucking handiwork?”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but we have nothing to do with it,” S’brasky snapped, glaring at her down the barrel of his own gun.

The man was sweating under his expensive suit and Bethan could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped nervously.

The abandoned warehouse they were meeting in (the town of Himerope had lots of abandoned warehouses, but few actual wares, which made it a perfect site for criminal exchange) was dusty and, with afternoon sunlight pouring through the high windows, the entire space was filled with a golden haze. It looked like some goddamn fairyland out of one of Bethan’s children’s books, which irritated Bethan. This was _not_ turning out to be a fairy tale sort of day.

It had all started a few minutes ago when S’brasky had tried to surreptitiously contact the people he had guarding the perimeter— no doubt as the first move in an ill-advised attempt to try and get the upper hand on Bethan and her crew— only to discover that they weren’t answering. His less-than-clandestine freak-out had caused Bethan to try and contact _her_ perimeter guard, with identical results. Which had led directly to their current stalemate, each one certain that the other was responsible for the communications blackout.

Damnit! She _knew_ it! Deals with Mikhail Volkov _never_ turned out well.

Bethan disliked dealing with Volkov. She disliked dealing with Volkov to the point that she would sometimes make a less advantageous deal with someone else just so she wouldn’t _have_ to deal with Volkov.

It wasn’t because Volkov was the scum of the ’verse. Well, he _was_ the scum of the ‘verse, but _everyone_ Bethan dealt with was the scum of the ‘verse. _Bethan_ was the scum of the ‘verse. No, the problem was that Volkov wanted to win. He wanted to win more than he wanted money or things he could get with money. For most people, a good deal was when they got their payment, or when they got the goods that would get them their payment, but for Volkov, a deal wasn’t really a good deal unless he got to come out with more than the other person.

There was just no way to guarantee a smooth transaction when the guy you were doing business with wanted to get the better of you more than he wanted to get his hands on the merchandise.

Sometimes, though, Bethan just didn’t have another option and she and her people ended up on some Georgian planet with a shipment of weapons, waiting for Volkov’s people to show up and _try_ and get them to do something worthy of being cheated, humiliated, and/or killed publicly and spectacularly. All of which was by way of saying that Bethan had already been feeling like kicking kittens today, even _before_ everything went down the crapper.

It looked, for a few moments, like she and S’brasky were going to stand pointing their guns at each other all day, but that did not, in fact, happen. What happened was that the warehouse doors swung open two people sauntered casually into the room, looking for all the world like they owned this planet, and maybe a few others as well.

“Mexican standoff,” said a woman’s voice in a heavy Georgian accent. “Confrontation in which all parties exposed to equal danger. Each must maintain strategic tension ov situation. Outside event iz ze only possible resolution.”

And, just like that, the stalemate between Bethan and S’brasky came to an end. All the guns in the warehouse swung around to focus on said ‘outside event,’ and Bethan was certain she was not the only one to blink when she got a proper look at them.

The woman was small and delicate-looking. She was wearing a long black faux-leather coat with a gun belt and heavy combat boots, but she also had a very stylish black fascinator with an opaque veil pinned to her hair and glittering jet earrings in her earlobes. The contrast was perplexing and the veil hid two thirds of her face, leaving only a fine jawline and a pair of full, blood red lips visible, so there was no chance of getting a read off of her by looking in her eyes.

Her companion was tall, much taller than his (admittedly diminutive) counterpart, and physically attractive in an all-around-fit kind of way. He was wearing a combat vest with no shirt over over buff-colored army-surplus trousers and he was positively bristling with weaponry— two handguns in thigh-holsters, a gunbelt, a repeater on a shoulder strap, another repeater in his hands. Even more striking than his arsenal were the tattoos that covered his face and arms. They were stylized, but Bethan could still see base patterns: a skeletal hand appeared to cup one side of his face, and representations of muscle and sinew trailed down his neck and over his collarbones. His biceps were traced with what might be disarticulated bird bones and his forearms were wound about with… good God, those were snake skeletons, she could even make out the skulls on the backs of his hands.

Bethan’s shook her head in silent appreciation. If the situation were different, she would _definitely_ be stripping this man down and chaining him to her bed so she could admire the artwork in more detail.

“What the hell?” S’brasky snarled. “Who are you and what d’you think you’re doing here?”

“Names not important,” the veiled woman said dismissively. “We haff business here.”

“Oh really?” Bethan drawled, raising an eyebrow at the woman’s audacity. “You have business here?”

“Yes,” the strange woman said flatly.

Suddenly, too fast for anybody to react properly, the woman had a gun in her hand and was pointing it directly at Bethan, while her companion turned his repeater to point at S’brasky.

“You vill put down your weapons and stand against ze vall,” the woman said.

“Think you’re math needs a little work, sweetheart,” S’brasky said. “Case you didn’t notice, you’re kinda outnumbered.”

“Alvays are,” the woman said, sounding amused. “Is vhat makes us special.[1] You vill put your weapons down and stand against ze vall or I vill make you.”

“To coin a phrase, lady, you and whose army?” Bethan snapped.

This wasn’t amusing anymore.

The woman cocked her head at Bethan for a moment, then put her free hand to her ear, apparently activating a communicator.

“Team vone,” she said, “Fire.”

There were three sharp rifle reports in quick succession and three people— two of Bethan’s and one of S’brasky’s— went down.

Bethan could see the woman’s blood red lips curving into a small smile.

“Haff I mentioned that you are surrounded?” she said calmly. “You vill you do as I say. Or vould you like to meet team two?”

 

***

 

As soon as he’d fired the third shot, Jayne grabbed his rifle, stood up, and backed silently away from the broken window he’d used as a sniper’s blind. As quickly and quietly has he could, he left the room— an old office, he was pretty sure— and headed for the ladder in the hallway. Through his earpiece, he could hear River speaking softly in a Georgian accent that made her sound exactly like that bastard Niska. Jayne hadn’t thought he’d ever find himself longing for the days when River had simply been talking like Badger, but there you go. At least Badger didn’t torture folk.

Quick as he could, he shinned up the ladder and headed out onto the catwalk where there was an old lift blocking the sightline from the warehouse floor. It provided enough cover for him to get into position without being seen, although he had to be gorram quiet about it. Buddha knew what kind of weird echoes this old tin can of a building might make.

Jayne hunkered down and studied the situation. One set of bad guys— the set led by the curvy blonde in skin-tight leather— appeared to have given in. The other set— the one under the command of the sweaty guy in the fancy duds— were thinking about getting clever.

“I’m in position,” Jayne whispered into the com.

If there weren’t quite so many of the other guys, Jayne would have been laughing his _pìgu_ off at the picture Mal and River made standing shoulder to shoulder in the center of the warehouse, glaring down their noses at the Georgian weapons dealers. River looked like some sort of cross between a merc and a madam, which was funny in its own right (and also hot, but River always looked hot, so that wasn’t out of the way of ordinary), but Mal’s new look was gorram priceless.

River had spent five hours the day before using some kind of ink to temporarily stain Mal’s arms and face with a bunch of really elaborate designs. Her explanation had been obscure, but Jayne thought that the general notion might be to keep everyone looking at the ink rather than ruminating on where they might have seen Mal before. If that were the case, he had to own that it was working. Buddha knew that Jayne couldn’t really focus on anything except the _tā mā de_ fake tattoos, to the point that, if he ran into Mal on the street right now, he probably wouldn’t recognize him.

Mal, surprisingly, hadn’t complained during the lengthy process. In fact, for most of it he’d sat there, patient as you please, following her every move with a bright, intense look. And River, well, she had appeared to be using the opportunity to learn him like a book, caressing his skin with her calligraphy brush like she was making love. It was enough to give a man a right uncomfortableness. By the time Mal washed off the ink, the three of them were so hot and bothered— Mal and River from their game of eye tag and Jayne from watching— that they had ended up taking an unscheduled break in the shuttle.

After an unproductive exchange with Suit Guy, River raised one hand to her ear and spoke coldly into the comms.

“ _Team two, explain situation to my good friend S’brasky,_ ” she said. “ _He appears confused._ ”

With quick precision, Jayne shifted his rifle, sighted through the scope, and put a bullet through Suit Guy’s shoulder.

“ _Now,_ ” River said, “ _I vill repeat myself. Put down your weapons and stand against ze vall._ ”

 

***

 

Bethan congratulated herself privately on taking the safe option as S’brasky clutched his shoulder and howled. She really wasn’t a fan of getting shot, it was so messy, not to mention painful.

The bullet that had hit Volkov’s weasel had come from a different location than the three previous bullets, driving home the point that this goddamned warehouse really was filled to the tippy-top with Crazy Veil Lady’s snipers. Personally, Bethan thought the whole display was a little heavy-handed, but, then, a large part of committing crime successfully was playing to your audience, and heavy-handed seemed to be making an impression on S’brasky.

While S’brasky’s people duly laid down their weapons and joined Bethan’s against the wall, Veil Lady’s tattooed muscle moved over to Bethan’s skimmer, checking over the contents with a quick, practiced eye. Bethan sighed. 250 Yangxi 357s straight off the assembly line was a lot to write off, even for her.

Satisfied that the shipment was intact, Tattooed Muscle looked at Veil Lady. She cocked her head, as though listening, then gestured to one of S’brasky’s people. Muscle nodded, slung his repeater over his shoulder, and frisked the guy roughly. He removed what should have been Bethan’s payment from inside the lackey’s jacket and, without so much as glancing at the rest of them, returned to the skimmer. Bethan watched him fire up the controls sourly, wishing that this little pageant had happened _after_ she and S’brasky had made the exchange.

Bethan decided that Veil Lady and Tattooed Muscle were going to pay for this, along with whoever they worked for. The guns were one thing, but she _liked_ that skimmer. She was just beginning to consider exactly what form of payment she was going to exact when Veil Lady turned to look directly at her, almost as though she knew what Bethan was thinking. There was a tense moment of silence, then Veil Lady smiled.

“Mr. Niska sends his regards,” she said, before turning to look at S’brasky. “He hopes that now you understand difference between _gossip_ and _fact_.”

And, with those words, she turned and moved gracefully towards Bethan’s skimmer. Tattooed Muscle moved over so that she could slide behind the controls and the skimmer leaped forward, whipping around in a tight turn and sliding out of the warehouse doors at a speed that had everyone ducking instinctively.

Bethan watched the skimmer depart, then turned cool, thoughtful eyes on S’brasky, who was lying on the warehouse floor, still clutching his shoulder. Bethan knew that _she_ hadn’t done anything to piss off Adelai Niska— as much as she hated dealing with Volkov, she hated dealing with Niska ten times more, which in practice meant that she didn’t deal with Niska— so the culprit here must be S’brasky’s employer.

Bethan narrowed her eyes.

She couldn’t just lie down and take something like this, it would ruin her ‘reputation’— and thank you, Mr. Niska, for reminding her of that necessary ingredient in a successful criminal enterprise— but she really didn’t want to go one-on-one with Niska either. He was a sadistic _niáng_ [2] and she didn’t fancy ending up as one of his object lessons. Much better if Niska and Volkov tore each other apart, since it was obviously their _yīnjīng cèliáng bǐsài_ [3] that had gotten her into this in the first place.

As everyone began to pick up their weapons— and tried to find their dignity in the process— Bethan began to plan.

 

***

 

Ya’el was not, by nature, an imaginative woman, nor was she a spiritual one. She had never had much patience for magic or superstition, so ending up on a ship with a gorram _chozeh_ (and why River had used her grandmother’s Hebrew term for what she was was itself something Ya’el didn’t want to consider too closely) was disturbing.

Ya’el, after all, did not believe in seers.

But, as unsettling as River was, she wasn’t the _most_ unsettling thing about being on _Serenity_ . No, as Ya’el sat in the pilot’s seat, waiting with the calm tension that she had learned during her time in Black-TAC, where a single maneuver could include hours of waiting, she was forced to admit that the most unsettling thing about being on _Serenity_ was the ship herself.

Ya’el had flown a lot of ships in her time, and she knew that each one was a little bit different, but this beat-up aught-three Firefly was really one-of-a-kind. Ya’el had never been one of those pilots that talked about the ships she flew as being alive, but in _Serenity’s_ case, she was tempted to make an exception.

It was very, very easy to fall into the habit of thinking she had a mind of her own.

Oh, there were plenty of reasons why _Serenity_ acted so much differently than other ships. She was held together with grav-tape and blessings, and her systems had been rewired so extensively that their own manufacturers wouldn’t even recognize them. She had control panels that Ya’el was pretty sure had never before graced a Firefly, and she was missing control panels that were supposedly standard on any transport ship, Firefly or not. It was easy to see why she acted so oddly.

But that didn’t explain why she seemed so… _affectionate_.

Ships did not _feel_ affection. Or anything else, for that matter. They were _ships_ . However, when Ya’el and the others ate in the mess, with its warm lighting and painted flowers, the protein didn’t taste as bad as it should. When she went to sleep in her bunk in the aft section, the hum of the engine made it easier not to dream. And when she sat in the pilot’s chair, it was like _Serenity_ was trying to help Ya’el fly her like a Javelin, despite her jerry-rigged reconstruction and work-a-day design.

Ya’el’s musings were interrupted by the wave alert on the main console. Ya’el sat up with trepidation and flipped the switch, only to be brought up short.

The woman on the screen was… well, beautiful didn’t cover it, nor did gorgeous. This creature, with her luxuriant dark curls, flawless skin, and perfect features, was the most exquisite example of femininity Ya’el had ever seen. For a long moment, she simply stared, mouth slightly agape.

The woman stared back at her, dark eyes blinking in surprise and concern.

“ _Hello?_ ” she said. “ _I am Inara Serra, Registered Companion of House Madrassa. I’m trying to reach Firefly transport_ Serenity _?_ _Malcolm Reynolds’s ship?_ ”

Ya’el gulped. What was a Registered Companion doing waving a dubious ship like _Serenity_?

“Er, yes, this is Firefly transport _Serenity_ ,” Ya’el stammered. “Captain Reynolds is… ahh… unavailable. Can I… help you?”

Flight school did _not_ prepare a person for this kind of thing _._

“ _I’m so sorry,_ ” Inara Serra said, “ _I don’t mean to be rude, but… who exactly are you?_ ”

“Ya’el Skylar, pilot,” Ya’el replied succinctly, her military training kicking in.

“ _Pilot?_ ” Ms. Serra gasped. “ _Is River alright?_ ”

Ya’el frowned.

“As far as I know,” she said, puzzled by the question.

“ _River has been Mal’s pilot ever since we lost Wash,_ ” Ms. Serra said. “ _He wouldn’t replace her unless she was… no longer capable of flying the ship._ ”

Ya’el shifted uncomfortably. She had wondered about River, of course. The girl was a Section 8 waiting to happen and no instructor she had ever met would ever have given the kid flight clearance, but Captain Reynolds had never questioned her competence, and when all was said and done… _damn_ , could she fly.

On an unrelated note, who was this Companion who referred to the crew of _Serenity_ in the first person plural?

“My understanding is that her… skills are required on the ground,” Ya’el said awkwardly.

Ya’el’s words had an unexpected effect.

“ _Oh,_ réncí de fú,”  [4] the Companion breathed, going pale. “ _He’s actually going to do it. That stupid, reckless, foolhardy…_ ”

This litany of adjectives continued long past the point of acute discomfort, but at length Ms. Serra pulled herself together and turned back to Ya’el.

“ _I beg your pardon_ ,” she said formally. “ _Malcolm Reynolds is the only man I have ever met who has the power to make_ anyone _, even a trained professional, lose their composure._ ”

Ya’el sat back, raising one eyebrow slightly. She had sensed from the beginning that there was more to Captain Reynolds than his easy-going and occasionally comical exterior suggested, but so far, she had only seen brief glimpses of it. .

Ms. Serra gave Ya’el a perfect, if somewhat rueful smile, and Ya’el felt her heart rate pick up a little, even though she didn’t normally fly that way.

“ _So River is alright?_ ” Ms. Serra said.

“I believe so,” Ya’el said.

Privately, she wondered, _How would I know?_

“ _I’ve been so worried about her,_ ” Inara said earnestly. “ _Mal and Jayne couldn’t look after a guinea pig between them, never mind a girl as fragile and sensitive as River._ ”

Ya’el raised an eyebrow.

“I think between the three of them, it’s River that does the looking after,” she said, thinking of a recent incident wherein the captain’s misguided intentions to do work on the the reclamation system (which, based on Captain Reynolds’s track record during Ya’el’s brief time on board, would probably have ended unpleasantly for everyone) had been curtailed by one sharp look.

“ _Yes, she’s quite precocious,_ ” Ms. Serra said. “ _Sometimes I think that that is what makes Mal forget how young she is. And how vulnerable._ ”

Ya’el was growing increasingly uncomfortable. While she was willing to concede that her new crewmate was young, sensitive, and often impossible to understand, Ms. Serra seemed to regard her as being weak and, perhaps, a little helpless.

Ya’el had never met anybody less helpless in her life.

“River appears quite capable, ma’am,” Ya’el said stiffly.

“ _Oh, I don’t mean to say she isn’t competent to go on jobs, or even fly,_ ” Inara said. “ _But emotionally… well, I don’t think they’re prepared to cope. And this ‘marriage’ they’ve entered into makes it worse. No matter what they say, physical intimacy cannot have been healthy for her in her mental state._ ”

Ya’el couldn’t help it. Her jaw dropped and her eyes nearly started out of her head. Ms. Serra thought that _River_ , the girl who lit up like sunrise whenever Mal or Jayne kissed her and who routinely caused them to take unscheduled ‘breaks’ during the day simply by smiling a certain way, might be mentally compromised by ‘physical intimacy’? Did this woman actually _know_ the girl?

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” Ms. Serra said, clearly misinterpreting Ya’el’s expression of disbelief, “ _Clearly they haven’t told you about that. Apparently, Mal, Jayne, and River got married— on Circe, polyamory is formally recognized there— so that they could act legally for River if…”_

“They told me that they’re married, ma’am,” Ya’el interrupted, finally finding her voice. “And even if they hadn’t, it would be difficult to miss.”

Ms. Serra frowned.

“ _Oh,_ ” she said. “ _Well, I suppose… I’m sorry, I don’t think I quite understand._ ”

“Well, as Jayne puts it, sometimes they even make it to the shuttle before they take all their clothes off,” Ya’el said bluntly, smiling in satisfaction when her statement caused Ms. Serra to visibly lose her Companion poise for the second time in five minutes.

“ _Oh my God,_ ” she said blankly. Then, pulling herself together, she want on to say, “ _Ms. Skylar, you need to tell me everything._ ”  
If Ms. Serra had said something else, or even if she had said the same thing in a different way, Ya’el might have complied. But the Companion’s words, at once understanding and urgent, reminded her too much of the NPs who had questioned her after the crash, gathering testimony that would later be used to put Ben in prison.

Her entire body tensed.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said, her words as cold and correct as she could make them, “But if you want to discuss the personal relationship between Mr. Cobb, Mrs. Reynolds, and Captain Reynolds further, I suggest that you do so with them. I have already said more than I should.”

Ms. Serra’s perfect face went instantly blank and cool. She eyed Ya’el as though the pilot were some lower-order life form that had been found inhabiting her commode.

“ _Ms. Skylar,_ ” she said, “ _I care very deeply about the_ Serenity _. If I think that you cannot be relied on to do what is best for her and her crew, I will make sure you are off that ship at the next planetfall._ ”

Ya’el inhaled sharply at the threat.

 _It’s not the same_ , she soothed herself. _This isn’t the same. Remember what Jayne said: I answer only to Captain Reynolds, and he answers only to River._

“Ma’am,” Ya’el said woodenly,  “I do not feel comfortable discussing my crew further at this time. If I have made a mistake, I apologize. I will tell Captain Reynolds that you waved.”

Before the Companion could say anything else, Ya’el broke the transmission. She leaned back in her chair and took several deep breaths. She had not expected being _Serenity’s_ pilot to bring up so many memories. None of the other private sector jobs she had had since leaving the Navy had really brought up her previous life, but now she was suddenly dealing with things she thought she had laid to rest when she turned in her wings.

 _I will make it right_ , she thought, still breathing deeply. _I will make it right, I will make it right._

The radio crackled and she sat up sharply, grabbing the handset.

“ _Serenity_ receiving,” she said brusquely.

“ _Skylar!_ ” said Captain Reynolds over the radio, his voice harried, “ _We appear to’ve picked up an escort, courtesy of Athens’s finest. Nice folk, I’m sure, but— eeaaugh!_ ”

The captain’s high-pitched shriek was cut off by a burst of static, and when the signal came back, it was River, speaking low and rapid.

“ _Madam Ching’s crew has captured the_ Queen Anne’s Revenge, _are now being mistaken for Blackbeard_ ,” she said. “ _Pursued in error, but will still hang if they are caught. Must set the_ Revenge _adrift, sail away with the booty while the Royal Navy pursues her._ ”  [5]

There was more static and another round of shouting, then River was back, this time rattling off a set of coordinates. Ya’el plugged them into the ship’s nav out of force of habit even as she was trying to decipher the rest of River’s message.

“Coordinates received,” she said. “Um… request mission parameters?”

There was a short pause, then Captain Reynolds came back on.

“ _Right now th’ folk chasin’ us thinks we’re Volkov’s people ‘n I aim t’ keep it that way,_ ” he said. “ _River’s found us a rendezvous spot in the hills, somewheres outa sight. Know you’re Black-TAC, Skylar, but you’re gonna have t’ do some atmo maneuverin’, come in low, keep from bein’ tagged. Far as anybody’s t’ know,_ Serenity _ain’t never been on this hunk a’ rock. Understood?_ ”

“Understood, Captain,” Skylar said, already scanning charts that had come up on her nav screens, resolutely ignoring the fact that the last time she had flown an At-TAC sim, she’d crashed it so hard Bricks had sworn she’d broken it. “ETA in ten. Skylar out.”

She hung up the handset, and began flipping the switches that would get _Serenity_ in the air.

 

***

 

“Hate t’ say it, Cap’n, but I don’t think grenades are gonna get us outa this one,” Jayne yelled, scrabbling for a handhold as River executed another hair-raising evasive maneuver.

The law-men chasing them were equipped pretty decently for border planet LEOs, and the long-range heat-seekers they were using were giving _Serenity’s_ crew no end of trouble. If they hadn’t had River flying they would have been history, and even with her at the controls, Mal figured they were about a spit and a whisker away from a fiery death.

“Jayne, that may be th’ most unnervin’ thing you have ever said t’ me,” Mal yelled back, hanging onto the dashboard with grim determination. “Albatross, how long ‘til th’ rendezvous?”

He wasn’t particularly surprised when she answered with a seemingly random scrap of poetry that, in their current situation, he didn’t have the wherewithal to decipher.

_“‘How much will you pay for an extra day?’_

_He asked when the time came to die._

_‘All of the pearls in all of the seas,_

_And all of the stars in the sky.’”_ [6]

“This is one a’ them fig-ur-a-tive moments, right?” Jayne asked, grabbing for a crate that had come loose from its tether. “She’s usin’ death as a metaphor. This ain’t actually our time. Right?”

They had entered a deep valley by this time and, being out of sight of their pursuers, were enjoying a brief respite from smart weaponry.

“Dunno, Jayne,” Mal said, shaking his head hard as though he could wake up from the dream where Jayne sounded downright learned. “Might have to yank out a Bible an’ check, ‘cause I think you talkin’ like a fancy professor type at one a’ them big Core universities might be one a’ the signs a’ the Apocalypse.”

“Don’t know what you’re so surprised about, Cap’n,” Jayne said testily. “Sussin’ out River’s meanin’ all th’ livelong day, I’m on th’ way t’ havin’ a gorram de-gree.”

The skimmer rounded a tree-clad spur of the right-hand mountain and shot up into a narrow ravine. Abruptly, River yanked up on the controls, bringing them to such a sharp halt that Mal nearly hit the windscreen and the loose crate went flying, narrowly missing River’s head and ending up in the well between her seat and Mal’s.

“ _Wèile ài nǎilào_ !”  [7] Mal yelped.

“We have arrived,” River said calmly.

Mal didn’t have a chance to answer, because at that moment, a whine of engines and a gust of displaced air announced _Serenity_ ’s approach from the uphill end of the ravine. Mal’s eyes bugged out, because the ship’s movements were something akin to the lurchings of a drunken and, perhaps, handicapped bull in a poorly laid out china shop.

“Gorramit, Skylar!” Mal screeched into his con as the port thruster narrowly missed snagging on a pine tree.

Skylar’s only reply was a stream of curses in Chinese, English, and what Mal thought might be Hebrew which, taken together, suggested that his mother had been of either a piggish or a goatly persuasion and that his father had suffered from a long list of ailments, mostly of a sexual nature.

It was hard to tear his eyes away from his ship’s seemingly imminent demise, but a sharp poke in the arm from River reminded him that there was work to do. As the crazy genius third of their whacky trio ducked under the console and began yanking out wires, he and Jayne set to work unloading the crates. They got the last one off just as River finished her task and jumped back as she turned the skimmer around and punched some commands into the console. She leapt out of the pilot’s seat just as the skimmer took off and Jayne sprang forward to catch her while Mal watched the skimmer shoot out of the ravine and bank sharply to port, continuing up the valley.

“Autopilot,” River remarked from her new position in Jayne’s arms.

About fifty-eight seconds later, Mal heard their pursuers’ vehicles whine past the entrance to the ravine, chasing the now autopiloted skimmer.

Aware that they only had so much time before the LEOs figured out they’d been had, Mal turned back to the (miraculously intact) ship. The gangway was just lowering and Mal sent up a silent prayer of thanks as he and Jayne began maneuvering the crates into the airlock. He was so focused on the task that it took him a minute to realize that River was trying to help.  

There was a reason that River didn’t usually assist with the cargo-shifting part of their operation. While she was plenty strong enough to lift the crates, she wasn’t big enough to actually get them anyplace, since they were almost the same size as her. For some reason, despite what Mal presumed was an exhaustive knowledge of the physics involved, this offended her deeply. She set down the crate she was wrestling with and growled at it viciously before grabbing one of the handles and dragging it towards the ship, cursing in even more languages than Skylar.

Mal knew better than to laugh, but it was difficult. He let her get the crate onboard, then caught her attention with a quick mental _Albatross!_ Her head came up and she glowered at him, well aware of his amusement, but he just jerked his head towards the ship.

“Ain’t got no time to pout at Mother Nature for not makin ’ you bigger than a crate a’ repeaters,” he said. “Gotta get _Serenity_ off this rock without bein’ seen, and since it seems Skylar couldn’t pilot her way outa a wet paper bag if it happened t’ be in atmo, looks like you’re up.”

River cocked her head, then nodded. With one last glare at the crate, she ran for the bridge, her combat boots plinking merrily on the grating. When the ship lifted off just as Jayne and the last crate cleared the ramp, Mal felt himself relax a little. There may have been a few bumps, but their cargo was on board, River was at the helm, and they would soon be back in the black where they belonged.

Today was a good day.

Now if he could just teach his fancy new Black-TAC combat pilot how to fly in atmo.

 

***

 

“So we’ve takin’ out th’ whole perimeter guard ‘cept for these two guys, right?” Mal said, waving his chopsticks by way of illustration. “And by we, a’ course, I mean River, with me standin’ behind her and lookin’ pretty.” He held out his elaborately decorated arms for emphasis. “Anyways, these fellows as is left, they’re both usin’ a pile a’ them big freighter pods as cover, but they’re on opposite sides. Now, I’m thinkin’ they’re some kind a’ team, right? I mean, why else would they be coverin’ th’ same ground? But then River chucks an old bottle in between ‘em and they both startle like racehorses, go chargin’ ‘round the pods and end up smackin’ into each other so hard, they bounce off and end up in th’ dirt. They were from opposite crews, had no idea the other one was there. Anyways, while they’re sittin’ on their _pìgus_ gawpin’ at each other, River comes in and lays ‘em both out. I damn near died laughin’, ‘cause even out cold, they had these gorram shocked expressions on their faces.”

Jayne and River were laughing at Mal’s reenactment of the day’s activities, and Ya’el found herself smiling, even though she was bemused by the story. She had seen River and Jayne spar, so she knew that River was some sort of savant when it came to hand-to-hand combat, but she still had a hard time reconciling the young, guileless girl with the wide eyes and quicksilver emotions with the efficient assassin who could take out two entire perimeter guards single-handedly. Especially at moments like these, when she was sitting with her knees drawn up, giggling with delight.

“So,” Jayne said when he had finished laughing, “We’ve heard what Mal’n Riv got up to. What about you, Skylar? You get int’ any trouble while we were away?”

Ya’el froze.

“Actually,” she said, burying her nervousness under naval reserve, “You got a wave, captain. From a Ms. Inara Serra of House Madrassa.” Ya’el paused, then decided to tell Captain Reynolds the truth before he heard it from Ms. Serra. “She may be somewhat upset after our exchange.”

Jayne, River, and Captain Reynolds all stared at her for a long moment. Then, one by one, they let out muffled snorts that soon devolved into full-on laughter.

“Damn, Skylar,” Captain Reynolds said between chuckles, “You certainly do have a way with delivery.”

“ _Would madam care for another drink as we await the end of the universe?_ ” River squeaked out between giggles.

Ya’el blinked, trying to remember where she had heard that phrase before, but was distracted by Jayne.

“What in th’ name of a pig’s neckerchief did you do t’ get Inara’s fancy knickers in a twist?” he asked, clearly delighted by the idea.

“I was reluctant to discuss the personal lives of the crew with her,” Ya’el said, keeping her face as blank as possible. “She was displeased. I apologize if I have caused offense.”

Jayne and Rive dissolved into laughter once more, and Captain Reynolds was having trouble controlling the corners of his mouth. It clearly wanted to curl up in amusement, despite his determination to give Ya’el his sober attention.

“What— uh— what did she want to know?” Captain Reynolds asked, his voice slightly strangled.

“She was requesting intimate details of your marriage, sir,” Skylar said, feeling her cheeks heat. “Since I have never met Ms. Serra and you have not mentioned her, I was… uncomfortable sharing them.”

“‘At’s as it should be,” Captain Reynolds said, getting himself under control. “Ain’t no call for anyone t’ be askin’ you ‘bout that. Hell, ‘til you know all our contacts, ain’t nobody got no call t’ be askin’ you ‘bout much of anything. Everybody we trust knows enough t’ understand bein’ cautious.”

“‘Nara don’t,” Jayne pointed out.

“I own, Inara’s a special case,” Captain Reynolds said. “She’s fine, though, used t’ be one a’ th’ crew, in her way. That said, she and I will be havin’ words. There’s some things a I don’t take kindly t’ havin’ discussed behind my back, and my marriage is one of ‘em.”

Ya’el blinked, her mind unable to process the idea of the beautiful, cultured Ms. Serra being part of _Serenity’s_ crew. What in the ‘verse could her job have been?

“I wanna be there when you tell ‘Nara she can’t talk ‘bout sexin’,” Jayne said, grinning. “‘Slike tellin’ a preacher he can’t talk ‘bout God.”

“ _You’re welcome on my boat. God ain’t,_ ”  [8] River said solemnly. “Mal is very good at challenging the vocations of the faithful,”

Jayne started laughing again, while Captain Reynolds tried to look aggrieved. Ya’el had to bite the inside of her cheek, because the expression he actually managed was somewhere between besotted and abashed. It was… adorable.

And she would face a firing squad before she whispered that to another soul.

At that moment, for no apparent reason, Ya’el remembered where she’d heard the phrase about having a drink while awaiting end of the universe before.

“ _Without End_ ,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

The three bantering spouses paused and looked at her.

“Huh?” Jayne said.

“What you said before, about madam caring for another drink,” Ya’el said, looking at River. “It was from _Without End_. The holovid.”

River smiled brilliantly and nodded.

Ya’el had seen the vid while she was in flight school. It was about a group of people stranded on a luxury starliner awaiting the explosion of the White Sun and the subsequent annihilation of the ‘verse. The character who spoke the quote was an android, and his deadpan delivery at dramatic moments added an odd note of comic relief to the otherwise grim plotline.

Ya’el’s eyes narrowed.

“Were you comparing me to an android?” she asked, torn between pride at having worked out River’s meaning (albeit belatedly) and offense at being called a robot.

“ _Top of the class_ ,”  [9] River said gleefully.

Ya’el considered River for a long moment, then said, “You’re a bit of a brat, aren’t you?”

River’s eyes went distant in that special way that meant she was looking where no other human being could see.

“ _River was more than gifted,_ ” she murmured, her inflection becoming, if possible, even more precise. “ _She—  she was a gift… She could be a real— brat about it, too…_ ”[10] She looked at Mal, and her speech changed, perfectly mimicking the captain’s Rim drawl. “ _I’ve staked my crew’s life on th’ theory you’re a person. Actual and whole."_ [11]

Captain Reynolds smiled and leaned across the table, reaching out to take River’s hand in his.

“That you are, darlin’,” he said. “Genius brain, talent for dancin’, inclination towards brattiness, skills in th’ assassination field— th’ whole package. And I wouldn’t change a thing, not for all th’ pretty in th’ ‘verse.”

The two of them were now firmly off in their own little corner of the ‘verse, so Ya’el turned to Jayne.  
“What did I say?” she asked.

Jayne replied absently, most of his attention on River and the captain.

“Sometimes she gets t’ thinkin’ them folk at the Academy made her, ‘stead a’ just messin’ with her,” he said. “She knows it ain’t true, but with what they done t’ her head… sometimes it’s hard for her t’ remember. Helps t’ remind her a’ all th’ things they woulda changed if’n they were really th’ ones in charge.”

Ya’el thought through Jayne’s words carefully.

“So saying that she is being a brat,” she said, “That is saying she is being herself, not what those who trained her intended.”

River, despite her apparent inattention, threw her a beautiful, bittersweet smile.

“ _And what shoulders and what art / Could twist the sinews of thy heart?_ ” she said softly. “I am the tiger and the lamb, but they did not make me. Their hand and their eyes are not sufficient for such a task.”  [12]

Captain Reynolds smiled.

“No they ain’t, little one,” he said. “Not by half. Your heart’s yours and nothin’ they could do had a chance in hell a’ touchin’ it. All their twistin’ did is make you more gorram dangerous ‘n they could rightly imagine. If I were still a prayin’ sort a’ man, I’d say you were the Alliance’s just deserts.”

“ _Chickens comin’ home to roost_ ,”  [13] River whispered.

Jayne was frowning, looking like he was working over a problem in his head and not liking the results.

“Do that mean it were… _good_?” he asked. “What they done? ‘Cause she turned out shiny, does that mean it weren’t wrong?”

Captain Reynolds appeared taken aback, and River looked both proud and sad.

“We walk in the shadows,” she said to Captain Reynolds. “Difficult place to learn the path of light.”

Ya’el didn’t know what she had said, but it took Captain Reynolds less than thirty seconds to think it through and nod in apparent understanding.

“We ever run into any a’ them folk as thought the Academy was a good idea, we put ‘em down,” he said to Jayne. “I ain’t sayin’ I ain’t grateful for River, but th’ fact remains, they hurt her. Ain’t nothin’ in th’ ‘verse as’ll make that right.”

Jayne breathed out and nodded.

“Good,” he said decisively.

The three of them shared a moment of wordless communication that made Ya’el feel like an intruder. She stood, clearing her throat softly.

“I’m going to check on the bridge,” she said.

Captain Reynolds looked up briefly and nodded, but other two even didn’t acknowledge the interruption. Ya’el left quietly and made her way to the bridge. She settled carefully into the pilot’s chair and frowned at the plastic dinosaurs on the console.

“This ship is very strange,” she told the tyrannosaurus rex.

The toy dinosaur didn’t answer, but Ya’el could have sworn it grinned at her. Although, realistically, that was probably just the way the plastic was moulded.

 

***

 

River tasted like blood and silk.

It was a fanciful notion, one Mal wouldn’t own to aloud, but it was the truth. What was also the truth was that the combination made him ten kinds of crazy.

It really wasn’t quite fair. Most folk never had to face the prospect of having all their most impossible fantasies come to life wrapped in one gorram gorgeous package and looking at them like they hung the stars. For crying out loud, it shouldn’t have been possible for River to embody the old-world princess he’d mooned on since he was a kid and the fellow soldier he’d come to need after the war, both at the self-same time. It was enough to addle any man’s head.

Not to mention, she felt like heaven.

Suddenly, the bliss of kissing River was interrupted by a fretful sound, then by the forceful separation of their mouths and a panicked gasp of “Serenity!”

Mal froze.

He took a moment to assess the situation. River was lying half on Mal, half on Jayne. Mal was engaged in kissing her, and last he’d known before he lost higher brain functions, Jayne had had his hand up her skirt. From a slightly broader standpoint, _Serenity_ sounded fine, the con was silent, and the back of his neck was not doing its trouble-on-the-ship thing.

Which meant that, whatever was wrong on _Serenity_ , it was something only River could sense.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asked, looking anxiously down at River.

She had the pale, wide-eyed look going that always put a whole pile of rocks in his gut, and she’d started shaking in his arms like she was a leaf and it was hurricane season.

“ _Ěxīn de hóuzi gǒu shǐ_ ,”  [14] Jayne swore, seeing the same thing Mal did and, no doubt, feeling the same way about it. “What’s wrong, _bǎobèi_?”

The two men moved so that River was curled on the couch between them, back up against Mal’s chest, fingers twisting in Jayne’s t-shirt.

“Holding a bird in both hands,” River said, voice trembling. “Right hand, left hand. If they both move the wrong way at the wrong time, the bird is crushed. _Crack, squish_.” She looked up at Mal, eyes empty. “The right hand and the left hand each forgot that the other was there.”

Both Mal and Jayne were quiet as they tried to untangle that ball of metaphorical string. Mal rubbed her arms and Jayne put one big hand over both of hers, stilling their fretful movements.

“What’s th’ bird, baby girl?” Jayne asked at last.

“Bird is yours,” she whispered, her eyes glassy. “Baby bird, jumped out of the nest, spread its wings, and soared to the stars.”

“Oh, _tā mā de wǒ de shēnghuó_ ,”  [15] Jayne swore. “Mal, _she’s_ th’ bird. ‘At’s… first time I kissed her, I asked her if she wanted it, an’ she said it was like a baby bird jumpin’ out a’ th’ nest: she’d never done it b’fore, but it were somethin’ she were born t’ do.”

“ _Dà xiàng xìngxiàn_ ,”  [16] Mal swore. “What about th’ hands, _ài rén_? This th’ blue hands again? Or somethin’ new?”

River closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Carefully, she pulled one hand out from under Jayne’s and laid it over his heart.

“Right hand,” she said. “Precise, controlled, does not go astray.” She removed her palm from Jayne’s chest and transferred it to Mal’s. “Left hand. Unpredictable, hard to govern, hand of miracles and twisted fates.”

It made sense, like most of River’s nonsense did when you looked at it the right way. But just because he understood what his _fēng le_ little wife was saying didn’t mean that Mal was happy. In fact, he was well on his way to being as unhappy as a man could be.

“Oh, that ain’t good,” Jayne said, echoing his own thoughts. “She’s right, I clean forgot you was there, Mal, n’ that ain’t safe. We get t’ forgettin’ ‘bout each other like that, we could hurt her pretty gorram bad.”

Mal’s jaw clenched. They could indeed, and he was a selfish _húndàn_ for letting them get into this situation. He should never…

“No!” River cried, jerking in their arms and twisting to grab Mal’s wrist. “Don’t go!”

Jayne yelled in surprise and Mal jumped.

“What…” he started, but even as he began to ask, he was working it out in his head.

He’d been thinking he should never have let them indulge in these sorts of threesome scenarios since they were so gorram dangerous, and from there, the next logical step was removing either him or Jayne from the equation. And obviously it should be him, it should always be him, he had no business touching her in the first place.

That was his way of thinking, anyways. However, if River’s glare was anything to go by, she didn’t agree. Mal’s eyes widened, and suddenly he was a whole lot less concerned with how he was going to the special hell and a whole lot more concerned with how he might be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future if he didn’t fix this pronto.

“Uh, sorry?” he said.

River continued to glare.

“I’m just a dumb sumbitch who don’t know nothin’ and should leave th’ reasoning to my beautiful, brilliant wife?” he tried.

Jayne let out a snort and River finally relented, her face softening into a smile.

“Human beings, designed to learn,” she said. “When we stood up to see over the grass, our mothers’ hips became too narrow for us to come into the world knowing everything. We became helpless infants, a _tabula rasa_ that had to be filled with the knowledge of how to survive. Now, even the least gifted among us is predisposed to being taught.”

Jayne gave up the struggle and laughed outright and Mal, after a moment’s helpless gaping, did the only thing he could to regain control of the situation: he leaned down and kissed River hard on the mouth. Not only did it feel gorram good, it prevented her from saying anything else that would have him blushing.

 

[1] Paraphrase from "Serenity

[2] Motherfucker

[3] Penis measuring contest

[4] Merciful Buddha

[5] Ching Shih, AKA Madam Ching (1775— 1844), and Edward Teach, AKA Blackbeard (c. 1680— 1718), were both Earth-that-was pirates. Madam Ching operated in the China Sea commanding the Red Fleet. She was one of the few pirate captains to retire from piracy and is considered to be the most successful pirate in history. Blackbeard operated in the West Indies commanding a captured French merchant vessel which he renamed _Queen Anne’s Revenge_

[6] From "The Clock Man" by Shel Silverstein

[7] For the love of cheese

[8] From "The Train Job"

[9] From "Serenity"

[10] Ibid.

[11] From _Serenity_

[12] From "The Tiger" by William Blake

[13] From _Serenity_

[14] Festering monkey shit

[15] Fuck my life

[16] Elephant gonads


	16. Blue-Eyed Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This your ['verse or your characters?]"  
> "No, sir." (re: Joss Whedon and Co.) "You're looking at the proper owners right there."

Ben gritted his teeth as the marshals yanked him none too gently off the prison transport and onto the prisoner loading dock. Pain shot through him as the movement jarred his broken ribs, but he bit down on the inside of his cheek and refused to make a sound.

It was a newfound skill for Ben, this suffering in silence, and he still had enough of a sense of humor left to appreciate the irony of it. He, Benjamin Ross, whose nickname in basic training had been Zhǔjiǎo[1] because he was famous for milking everything, be it triumph or injury, for all it was worth, had become averse to drawing attention to himself.

“ _Fú dì hǎijūn_ ,[2] what the _dìyù_ happened to his face?” the younger of the two marshals said, getting his first good look at Ben in the glaring light of the courthouse’s holding area.

Ben bit back his automatic response, which ran along the lines of, _Yes, I know, it’s just too handsome to be natural, someone must have done something to make it look this good,_ and remained stubbornly impassive. After all, his smart mouth was often what made him look like this in the first place.

“ _Hǎo tā mā de_ , [3] kid,” said the older marshal, taking one of Ben’s elbows and guiding him towards the door. “Did you grow up under a lotus plant? You’d think you’d never heard of fist fights.”

Again, Ben had to restrain himself, this time from saying, _Actually, the term ‘fist fight’ is somewhat inaccurate. For one thing, ‘fight’ implies that both parties are actually able to participate. For another, I’m not sure how much fists were actually involved. More like boots. And the floor. And maybe a door frame._

“ _Fú_!” the younger marshal said, taking Ben’s other elbow. “Nobody fights like that anymore. That’s what pulse stunners are for.”

The older marshal actually stopped walking and turned to gape at his young companion. Ben, meanwhile, could not keep quiet any longer, despite his best intentions.

“Guess these guys didn’t get a chance to charge theirs last night,” he said, smirking as well as he could around the swelling. “Power’s kinda hit-or-miss in the cell blocks, you know?”

There was a beat of silence as both marshals absorbed this, and then the older one let out a strangled bark of laughter. The younger flushed brilliant red and tried to stammer out some sort of response, but his companion just shook his head, and headed towards the door again, still chuckling. He placed his palm on the scanner by the door, and after verifying his identity, it slid open.

“ _Now leaving secure holding area_ ,” an electronic female voice drawled in English, before repeating in Chinese: “Xiànzài líkāi ānquán de qūyù.”

They entered the long hallway that Ben vaguely remembered from his sentencing. It ran the entire length of the courthouse and was lined with regularly spaced lift banks. Each lift opened directly into the courtrooms it serviced, so that the prisoners never needed to pass through the public areas of the courthouse.

They headed off down the hall until they reached the correct lift. Again, the older marshal pressed his hand to the scanner and, after a longer wait, the lift door slid open. They stepped in and the marshal typed a code into the keypad beside the doors. The lift closed and the same electronic voice intoned: “ _Boarding Lift 19. Destination: Courtroom H-123_. Dēng jī diàntī shíjiǔ. Mùdì de: fǎtíng jiān-yī'èrsān.”

The ride up was incredibly awkward, but, since Ben was reasonably sure neither of his escorts was planning on using the opportunity to hurt him worse than he already was, it was much better than he had been fearing.  Apparently, the marshals hadn’t gotten the memo that they could harass him with impunity, which put them in a decided minority. After all, even the freshest inmates at Melis Allied Prison knew that anything they did to Benjamin Ross would be ignored. What they chose to do with that information…

Well, there was a reason his face was horrifying naive young marshals this morning.

The lift stopped and the marshals pushed Ben out into the small holding room. The movement activated the 3-D display, showing the Alliance sigil and seal and the Chinese characters for ‘wait’ in red.

“ _Welcome to holding area H-123,”_ the electronic voice said. “ _Please wait until called._ Huānyíng lái dào chí yǒu dìqū yī'èrsān. Qǐng děngdào bèi jiào.”

They waited. And waited. And waited. Ben spent the time brooding on just how pointless this whole exercise was. He had been assured— perhaps just a touch smugly—  by the Naval Advocate assigned to him that he had no chance of being released today, or any day soon.

He wasn’t entirely certain how or even by whom his sudden unemployability on the otherwise booming cheap labor market that was the Employment Release Program had been orchestrated. He was just a simple astronautical engineer, and untangling the web of secrets and favors and duplicities that had landed him where he was would take the combined skills of a psychologist, a politician, and a crime boss, with maybe a laser cutter thrown in for good measure. All Ben knew was that someone somewhere did not want him wandering free in the ‘verse and had exerted their influence to make sure he stayed put.

Or maybe he had just had the most horrendous run of bad luck known to the human race. Anything was possible.

Twenty long minutes later, there was a soft chime. The red ‘wait’ character was replaced by a green ‘enter’ and the electronic voice said, “ _Please enter._ Qǐng shūrù.”

The door slid open and the marshals took Ben’s arms and led him through into the cool bluish-white light of the courtroom.

Ben had discovered at his sentencing that the courtrooms he was familiar with from the holovids had been somewhat inaccurate when it came to the military bloc. Unlike civil trials, court proceedings for the army, the navy, and the space core, were not held in the huge, circular arenas that civilian trials took place in. The courtrooms used by the Military Trial Judiciary were small, stark, featureless cubes with grey walls, grey benches, and grey tables. The judge’s bench had an interface embedded in the surface, but was, in size, shape, and color indistinguishable from the council tables. The witness stand was just a chair and the jury box was nothing but a row of benches. The only color in the room came from the holowall behind the judge’s bench. As Ben and his escorts entered, the wall lit up, displaying the seal of the Allied Navy, Ben’s name, a series of numbers, and the Chinese characters for ‘parole,’ ‘hearing,’ and ‘one.’

“ _Docket number 308RJ9742_ ,” said a different electronic voice, male this time, “ _Parole hearing, first, for Ross, Benjamin. Presiding, Honorable Major Katherine Montclare._ ”

Thankfully, the bilingual redundancy was not programmed into the courtroom announcement system, but the designer in Ben still sneered at the way it mangled the written records it was reading. Widget would never have been so sloppy on one of their prototypes. Dismissing the bad coding, Ben looked around the room to see who was playing what role in this b-grade legal drama.

Of the main characters, the judge— in a holo, she would be the Icy _Grande Dame_ Who Glares Condescendingly at All and Sundry While Making the Occasional Withering Remark— was clearly bored with the proceedings. The prosecuting advocate— the Sneering Older Sibling to the Protagonist Whose Sole Purpose is to Make the Protagonist Look Plucky When They Stand Up to Them— was scrolling through files on his handheld, trying to look important. Ben’s advocate— the Geeky Main Character’s Geekier, Less Attractive, More Obnoxious Friend Who Proves that the Main Character is Not Actually that Geeky— was fidgeting nervously with his cuffs.

The supporting cast, a mix of naval and civilian personnel, was ranged behind the advocates. It might have been Ben’s own (slightly gloomy) mood, but they looked like a sinister lot. The civilians might have been characters in a gangster vid, while the military personnel could have played General Armitage’s support staff in a Unification War holo if their uniforms were brown instead of gray.

It was at this point that Ben’s eye caught sight of a man and a woman who didn’t quite fit with the scene that was being set up. They were sitting in the second row behind the defendant’s table, and all Ben could think when he saw them was, ‘PLOT TWIST.’ The woman was wearing a charcoal Chinese blouse and a slim rose skirt, and if she had been a little older and had worn her hair differently, he would have said she was the Gorgeous Young Professional. Since she was, _maybe_ , nineteen, and her hair was swept up in a romantic style that had gone out of fashion thirty years ago, he was going to have to go with… Incognito Princess? Which made the man in the nondescript jacket and Army surplus trousers sitting beside her (Soldier Out of Uniform and Really Pissed Off About it) the Bodyguard. That made sense. The way the guy was glaring around the room, a kidnapping attempt was clearly imminent.

Ben took his seat beside his advocate, noting with a twist of his mouth that the man didn’t even bother to acknowledge him, and resolutely tuned out the opening court procedures. In fact, he managed to remain blissfully out of touch until the judge asked, in the manner of one who already knew the answer, whether the parole applicant had obtained employment outside of Melis Prison.

At which, point, the Plot Twists fulfilled their potential as the Incognito Princess’s Bodyguard stood up and said, “Yes ma’am.”

The Honorable Major Katharine Montclare fixed the man with a gimlet glare, which had no effect apart for making him to push his chin out a little further.

“And you are?” the judge asked icily.

“Captain Malcolm Reynolds, ma’am,” the Bodyguard said, speaking with a definite Rim accent,  “Owner of firefly class transport ship _Serenity_. We’ve hired Mr. Ross as our in-flight mechanic.”

Ben’s jaw nearly hit the cheap gray plexiglass of the defense table, and the prosecuting advocate actually dropped his pad.

“O-objection, your Honor,” Ben’s advocate stuttered, lurching unsteadily to his feet.

Ben stopped gaping at the unknown transport captain who had, apparently, hired hired him without him being aware of it and started gaping at his advocate. He knew the guy wasn’t exactly on his side, but surely it was bad form to actually object to something that was in his client’s interest? The judge clearly shared his views, as she turned her formidable dagger eye on the hapless man.

“You have something to add, 2nd Lieutenant Howe?” she sneered.

“I-I have no knowledge of this offer, your honor,” Lieutenant Howe said.

“I see,” Major Montclare said. “And, beyond calling the adequacy of the applicant’s council into question— which the prosecution may feel free to do, by the way— how does this constitute grounds for an objection?”

“Well— I—that is—” Lieutenant Howe fumbled, “I, um, have not seen the contract and so cannot advise my client…?”

“Not the court’s concern, Lieutenant,” Major Montclare said. “Captain Reynolds, you have papers to prove Mr. Ross’s new employment status?”

The Incognito Princess put one small hand on the Bodyguard’s— or, rather, Ship Captain’s— arm. He bent down so she could whisper in his ear, then nodded and reached inside his jacket, producing a sheaf of papers.

“We do,” he said. “All th’ signatures are electronic— hope that ain’t a problem. We only hit dirt a couple a’ hours ago. Had a… widget as needed seein’ to ‘fore we, uh, fell outa th’ sky.”

The judge simply nodded and gestured for Captain Reynolds to approach the bench, but Ben found himself abruptly fighting back tears. The transport captain’s last comment may have been clumsy, but it had done its job. He now knew why the man was here and who had sent him.

Widget and Skyfall were trying to get him out of prison.

He tried to pull himself together as the judge looked over the papers. The entire courtroom was suddenly tense. Many of the supporting cast were looking grim, and Ben’s advocate was frantically scrolling through his pad. The prosecuting advocate just looked lost.

“This appears to be in order,” Major Montclare said. “Mr. Ross, since these signatures are electronic, I will require your verbal confirmation. Do you, Benjamin Ross, agree to and swear to abide by the contract of employment now before the court?”

Ben stood shakily and cleared his throat.

“I do, your honor,” he managed to get out.

“Your honor, I really must protest,” Ben’s advocate said weakly. “Mr. Ross is an engineer, not a mechanic. He is not qualified—”

“2nd Lieutenant Howe, I realize that you are surprised, but if you continue to insist on doing the prosecution’s job, I _will_ hold you in contempt!” Major Montclare snarled.

“Not his fault,” said a clear, Core-inflected voice. “Outside interests, applying pressure.”

All eyes turned to the small figure in the charcoal blouse and rose skirt. The girl was sitting calmly in her seat, hands folded in her lap, dark eyes studying Ben’s advocate with so much intensity that Ben felt every single hair on his body rising. 2nd Lieutenant Howe made an incoherent sound.

“I understand,” the girl said. “He was supposed to go somewhere else. He knows things—” She blinked, cocked her head, then appeared to abandon what she had been about to say. Instead, she continued with, “Valuable knowledge, limited employability; skilled labor at minimal cost makes the ‘verse go round.” Her expression hardened. “We have our needs, the same as you have yours. Everybody has to get by.”

Pretty much the entire audience was looking uncomfortable and out of sorts at this point, suggesting that the tiny girl had gotten at least this much correct: they had all been expecting Ben to go ‘somewhere else.’ The only difference was that Ben— and, he suspected, the girl— knew full well that they wanted him back in Melis, not providing valuable services at a rock-bottom price.

“I’m sorry, you are?” Major Montclare asked, eying the girl with a jaundiced eye.

The girl stood and fixed her unnerving gaze on the judge.

“River Reynolds, your honor,” she said, “ _Serenity’s_ … arbiter.”

Ben’s eyes widened when she gave the same surname as Captain Reynolds and he had to bite back a smart remark— one involving cradles and robbers and possibly pigtails. The judge merely raised an eyebrow.

“A transport ship requires an arbiter?” she said, which wasn’t what Ben would have chosen to focus on had he been in her place, but hey, individual expression.

The girl smiled impishly.

“ _Serenity_ does,” she said. “It’s Mal’s luck, you see. Something’s wrong with it, he always ends up getting into trouble— he’s famous for it on certain planets.”

“Now, _ài rén_ ,” Captain Reynolds said, half wry, half amused, “I’m sure these fine folks’ve got better things t’ do than discuss th’ state a’ my reputation. Or my luck.”

River Reynolds laughed and shrugged.

“I also fly,” she offered.

“I see,” the judge said, looking slightly bemused. “Is there a particular reason you are accusing the applicant’s council of corruption, Mrs. Reynolds?”

“Not accusing anyone,” the girl corrected. “Just saying I understand. Seen it before. Not the first time we’ve taken on crew that someone wanted for something else.”

The expression on her face when she said that was indescribably sad.

“While I admire your… understanding, Mrs. Reynolds, we have a hearing to finish,” Major Montclare sneered.

“Of course, your honor,” Mrs. Reynolds said with a brilliant smile.

The girl sat down. The judge returned to the paperwork.

“This all appears in order,” Major Montclare said at last. “On these conditions, the court grants Benjamin Ross’s parole.”

She tapped her finger on the interface. There was an electronic chime, signalling the judge’s ruling. A low, angry hum broke out in the courtroom, but was abruptly interrupted River Reynolds’s voice:

“Your honor, under… provision 4059, _Serenity_ requests that Mr. Ross’s release be fast-tracked.”

The room went silent and all eyes turned, once again, to look at the diminutive girl. Strangely, Mrs. Reynolds was not looking at the judge, but was, instead, gazing with narrowed eyes at one of the military personnel, a rotund rear admiral who was looking particularly peeved by the ruling.

The judge blinked. She then tapped the interface in front of her, pursing her lips at what she had brought up.

“Provision…  4… 0… 5… 9,” she said with great precision. “Mrs. Reynolds, are you referring to the provision which allows a prisoner’s release paperwork to be fast-tracked if the normal seventy-two hour processing period might inconvenience their future employer?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Reynolds said, still glaring at the rear admiral. “I think that those seventy-two hours might… _inconvenience_ us greatly.” She finally deigned to turn away from the rear admiral and caught Captain Reynolds’s eye. “ _I do, if I have to_ ,” she said, her accent shifting inexplicably from Osiris to Londinium. “ _We’re making a better world. All of them, better worlds._ ” [4]

Captain Reynolds tensed. His eyes flicked from Ben to River to the rear admiral and back to River before taking on a hard, flinty look.

“Got us a job waitin’,” he said, turning back to the judge and offering her an affable but empty smile. “Trouble is, it’s quite a ways out from here, an’ our client’s already gettin’… impatient. Seventy-two hours’s is more’n I want t’ tack onto our travel time. ‘S business, you understand.”

The judge glared at Captain Reynolds for a moment, then shrugged and tapped at her interface again.

“Very well,” she said. “So ordered. Mr. Ross will be held in the courthouse holding area until his paperwork has been processed. You may pick up your new employee in four hours, Captain Reynolds. Court dismissed.”

The judge tapped her interface again and there was another chime, followed by a flurry of motion and a swell of noise as people began standing and talking to each other in low, urgent tones. The two marshals approached the defendant's table and Ben got to his feet mechanically, following them back to the prisoner’s holding area without really seeing anything. As the door slid open, however, he heard Captain Reynolds’s voice, sharp with concern.

“River!”

Ben glanced back over his shoulder and saw the transport captain stepping quickly back across the room and wrapping his arm around a suddenly pale and trembling River Reynolds. As Ben stepped through the door, he heard the girl speaking, her voice high and agitated:

“ _… most arch act of piteous massacre_

 _That ever yet this land was guilty of…_ ” [5]

The door slid shut.

 

***

 

 _Tā mā de zuìjiǔ xiàngjiāo yā_ , [6] it was Ariel all over again, only worse, because this time he was waltzing around gorram Alliance central without the disguise or the fancy memorized words, and he didn’t have Jayne and Zoe backing him up. Although, come to think of it, Jayne’s performance on that particular occasion was definitely not one any of them wanted an encore of. Still, it would have been nice to have someone on his six when things went south.

Because they _always_ went south.

As Mal stood drumming his fingers in one of the courthouse’s innumerable waiting areas,  he considered sourly that he should have known that something like this would happen. They’d been having a run of preternatural good luck as far as River was concerned, and it had been bound to run out. It wasn’t like he could blame her for losing it, either, what with the number of corrupt evil-doers packed into that courtroom. Hell, Mal wasn’t a Reader and those folk had made him want to curl up and start whimpering his own self. But, be that as it may, it was gorram terrible timing, and now Mal was in a position he absolutely _hated_ : choosing between leaving River alone while she was having an episode or trying to keep her calm in public. He had chosen to leave her on the shuttle, but every minute since then had been gorram _torture_ , and he if anyone should know what torture felt like, it was him. Mal like to think he was, if not an expert, then a very gifted amateur when it came to being on the receiving end of physical and psychological abuse. He was busy enjoying torturous minute one hundred and two when the door to the courthouse’s secure holding area finally opened and the object of their mission emerged.

Benjamin Ross had clearly been a very handsome and well-mannered individual once upon a time. Underneath the bruises and the swelling, he was most likely still handsome— he had that whole blue-eyed good-old-boy look going on, the same one that Mal had had when he was a young recruit fresh off Shadow. He also still had some of the pretty mannerisms, although his time in prison and his dealings with the MTJ had definitely taken a lot of the shine off them. Looking at him, Mal was minded of Simon in the square the morning of that downright surreal Jayne’s Day celebration on Higgins Moon: confused, beat to hell, and scared out of his gorram mind. Of course, Ross wasn’t quite as lily-handed as Simon had been back then— the man had spent a couple years in prison, after all, and he’d been a navy geek before that, so presumably he’d at least passed basic training— but he was still a Core kid who was used to regular meals, indoor plumbing, and civilized rules. That those rules had not applied to him for a while now was something that Mal suspected was only just starting to sink in.

Mal sidled over to Mr. Ross, who was blinking at his surroundings in puppy-eyed confusion.

“I’m sure you got all manner a’ questions,” he said, keeping his voice low and his expression bland. “However, I got me a crazy psychic and extensive experience flyin’ on the windward side a’ th’ law tellin’ me we need to make tracks.”

He smiled affably at a curious usher. Ross blinked at him.

“Um…” he said intelligently.

Mal surveyed Ross’s clothes critically. While the utilitarian blue shirt and pants didn’t scream ‘convict’ like a full-on prison jumpsuit would, it was definitely not a blending-in type of ensemble, not here on a Core planet.

“Here,” he said decisively, removing his jacket and handing it Ross. “It ain’t much, but it’ll have t’ do.”

Ross put on the jacket with mechanical obedience, still mostly in shock, and Mal grabbed his elbow and headed towards the exit sign.

“There’s some paperwork…” Ross said weakly.

“Anything as’ll have th’ law after us if we leave it be?” Mal asked brusquely, still moving.

“Er… I don’t think so?” Ross said. “Forwarding address, medical records, prison work records…”

“Your friend Widget can hack your records if we need ‘em, and I ain’t any too keen on havin’ your forwardin’ address made available to the folk of this _lǎopó mài_ [7] world,” Mal said in clipped tones, guiding Ross deftly through the door and propelling him forcefully down the corridor.

Ross stared at Mal, his mouth silently enunciating the English translation of Mal’s Chinese descriptor for this gorram Core planet:

 _Granny-selling_?

Mal caught sight of a couple uniform types heading their way and took an abrupt left, steering them deftly up a different set of steps and then making another left that allowed them to take a scenic tour of  the Traffic Court waiting area. A few more quick turns and they were finally— _finally_ — sliding past the weapons check at one of the side doors and stepping out into the cool dampness of an Albion afternoon. Ross stumbled, staring up at the sky in dumb incomprehension, and Mal grimaced in sympathy. However, they didn’t have time to deal with the man’s shock at his first taste of the open air as a free man.

Mal’s gut was twinging something fierce.

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing Ross’s elbow again and yanking him unceremoniously away from the courthouse.

Thankfully, the courthouse’s communications blackout field only extended a few dozen yards. By the time the were a block away from the building, Mal’s com was working again.

“ _Serenity_ , come in,” he snapped as soon as his earwig crackled to life.

There was a moment of static, then Skylar’s voice spoke in his ear:

“Serenity _here, captain._ ”

“Need you t’ check th’ airwaves,” he said without preamble, still towing Ross down the street at a steady clip, “See if there’s any chatter of th’ official variety. I got me an uncomfortableness.”

“ _Yes sir,_ ” Skylar said. “ _In the meantime, Jayne needs to talk to you._ ”

There was more static, then Jayne’s voice came on.

“ _Cap’n, River’s been on th’ radio,_ ” he said. “ _She ain’t makin’ no kind a’ sense, but she sounds mighty upset._ ”

“What’s she sayin’?” Mal asked, thinking perhaps he could get a general sense of things even if Jayne couldn’t.

“ _It ain’t English, Cap’n,_ ” Jayne said. “ _Ain’t Chinese neither. Don’t rightly recognize th’ language, truth t’ tell._ ”

“ _Tā mā de yīgè xiànchóng cèshēn_ ,” [8] Mal snarled.

“ _Captain,_ ” Skylar said, coming back on, “ _An alert just went out on the PEACE channel. It’s a… be-on-the-lookout for, and it describes two men who might very well match your descriptions._ ”

Well, didn’t this just keep getting better and better?

“ _Lā shǐ_ ,” Mal swore. “Any word on what we’re s’posedly wanted for?”

“ _If I understand the peacekeeper codes correctly, you aren’t wanted for any crime,_ ” Skylar said. “ _You are… potential witnesses, I think? Although what you are supposed to have witnessed, I couldn’t say._ ”

“I ‘spect it don’t matter,” Mal said grimly, pulling Ross unceremoniously into a side-street. “Once they got us to a precinct, I imagine they’d find some way t’ make our boy here disappear, one way or th’ other. Okay, I want th’ ship off th’ ground, double-time. _Serenity’s_ details are all in th’ paperwork I handed over, so whoever’s behind this most likely has access to ‘em. I don’t want ‘em putting a landlock on ‘er when th’ peacekeepers don’t manage t’ pick us up. We’ll meet you in orbit.”

“ _You sure, cap’n?_ ” Jayne’s voice broke in. “ _You’ll need some damn fancy flyin’ t’ pull that off, an’ Crazy Girl ain’t up for it._ ”

Mal winced. He knew what he might have to do, but damn, did he hate it.

“It’s taken care of,” he said. “See you in th’ sky.”

He flicked the earwig, cutting off his mic and ending the conversation before Jayne could ask more questions.

Ross was staring at him.

“What in the name of _nirvana_ is going on?” the engineer demanded.

“Seems we’ve got us a bit of a situation,” Mal said, taking another sharp turn down another back street, all the while remaining alert for city-side peacekeepers, or any other law enforcement types that might happen to make an appearance. “Albion ain’t too keen on lettin’ you leave her fair shores just yet. Apparently, she’s goin’ t’ require a bit of persuasion.”

“ _What the_ naraka[9] _is that supposed to mean?_ ” Ross hissed.

“It means,” Mal said, stopping at the mouth of the alley and cautiously poking his head around the corner, “That if you see uniforms… run!”

And with that, Mal put action to words, grabbing Ross’s shoulder and pushing him back up the alley the way they had come. He shoved Ross behind a sleek waste disposal unit just as a peacekeeper foot patrol passed by the entrance to the alley.

Ross hit the wall with a pained grunt, and Mal eyed him critically. If the rest of him was as bad off as his face, the man wasn’t going to be up for much, which was going to put a real kink in their already challenging plans.

“How many ribs?” he asked with weary resignation.

Ross blinked at him— man was going to get sore eyelids at this rate, with how much he was doing that— and let out a pitiful kind of moan.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Hurts like an _èmó de érzi_ [10] though.”

“ _Tā mā de_ ,” Mal said without heat. He shook his head and sighed. “I ain’t gonna lie t’ you, Ross,” he told the man, “It’s gonna hurt a whole lot more. We’re gonna have t’ move quick, and th’ closest soothers are on my shuttle. Once we get there, I can dope you up t’ yer eyeballs, but until then, you’ll be in a world a’ pain. You think you can handle that?”

Ross closed his eyes.

“Do I have a choice?” he asked raggedly.

Mal thought about it.

“Not so’s you’d notice,” he said. “If’n it makes you feel better, you can curse my name t’ th’ hell of yer choice th’ whole way.”

Ross let out a strained grunt of laughter.

“Fair enough,” he said, heaving himself off the wall. “‘ _Forwards, you sons of bitches, and if the browncoats ask who sent you, tell them Ms. Zhǎng Tuǐ_ [11] _sends her regards_.’”

Mal did a double take, then shook his head.

“I don’t know what ye’re quotin’, Core-boy,” he said, setting off back up the alley, “But I should warn you, where you’re goin’, brown coats are still very much in fashion.”

“You haven’t seen _On the Rim_?” Ross wheezed behind him. “Aw, man, it’s a classic! The definitive U-War holo! Darryl Zhou won six awards for it!”

“Strangely enough, those sorts a’ holos ain’t quite as popular when you’re actually _from_ the Rim,” Mal said testily, peering around another corner, then stepping out onto a slightly busier street. “Funny thing, folk don’t generally appreciate bein’ minded of a war they lost.”

“Wait,” Ross said, realizing, albeit belatedly, what Mal was implying,  “Are you saying that some of the people on your ship supported Independence?”

He sounded genuinely shocked, and Mal surprised himself by letting out a snort of laughter.

“Ross,” he said as they matched their pace to that of the other people on the thoroughfare, “If we was in one a’ your holos, you’d be givin’ me th’ regards of a long-legged miss of presumably dubious virtue right abouts now.”

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Ross said blankly, and in that moment, he reminded Mal so much of Simon it hurt.

They were nearing another intersection, and Mal had a sneaking suspicion their luck was about to run out as far as cops and feds went. Sure enough, as they approached the intersection, he spotted a peacekeeper skimmer coming in from their left. Mal made a quick about-face and shoved Ross into the shelter of a doorway, cursing that this side of the street appeared to be primarily residential. Thinking fast, Mal put his arms around Ross and pulled him into a hug, hoping anybody who saw them would think they were saying goodbye before one of them entered the building.

Ross yelped in surprise and started back, but he was off balance and Mal ended up having to catch him to keep him from falling. The yelp turned into a groan as the scuffle put pressure on the other man’s bruised ribs. Mal got Ross leaning against his shoulder and rubbed one hand up and down his spine.

“Easy now,” he said very softly. “Breath through it. Pain’s just how you know you ain’t dead, right?”

He was guessing right now, gambling that Ross would be more like Tracy than Zoe. Tracy had needed physical reassurance when he was in pain, while Zoe was as likely to bite a soothing hand as not.

Just one of the many things that had made commanding the Balls and Bayonets so exciting.

Ross had grabbed Mal’s shirt in an attempt to keep his feet and now had his hand fisted in the material as he tried to get the pain under control. He was also swearing eloquently and creatively through tightly clenched teeth, which made him seem, suddenly, a whole lot less like Simon.

“Damn, son,” Mal said appreciatively. “Say what you will ‘bout th’ Allied Navy, you chicken wings surely do know how t’ swear.”

“We have classes in it,” Ross said breathlessly, still holding onto Mal’s shirt like grim death. “I graduated with honors.” He took a few deep breaths. “How much further?” he asked.

“Well, that’s a question,” Mal said. “Shuttle’s at the ‘pad on top a’ that big building as looks like a bunch a’ pick-up sticks, and we’ve kinda been circlin’ ‘round it tryin’ t’ avoid th’ patrols. Which ain’t doin’ you any good, seems t’ me. Nope, what we need here is a diversion.”

Ross took a few more breaths, then got his feet under him and pulled himself upright, revealing an expression of supreme trepidation. Mal found this slightly insulting. Considering the briefness of their acquaintance, Ross had absolutely no reason to be dubious about his plans! Anyways, this wasn’t rightly _his_ plan. Technically speaking, it was _Wash’s_ plan, one of the many little gimmicks that the fun-loving pilot had added to their arsenal of things to do in case the job went south. River had cobbled together the necessary equipment out of Kaylee’s bits and bobs, and they had set it up on their way to the courthouse that morning.

Still grumbling to himself, Mal reached for the inner pocket of his jacket, only to remember that Ross was wearing the damned thing. With a huff, he turned to Ross and, without preamble, reached inside the coat and started fishing for the correct compartment.

“Whoa!” Ross said. “Easy there, tiger! I am not that kind of boy, you need to at least buy me dinner first!”

“Ha, ha,” Mal said. “Very funny.”

He found the correct pocket and made a small sound of triumph as he produced his prize, a small plastic cylinder about the size of his ring finger.

“Here goes nothin’,” he said, and twisted the two halves of the cylinder in opposite directions.

 

***

 

Four blocks away, a tiny box about the size of a protein cube, let out a low-level electromagnetic pulse. The pulse was too weak to affect anything more than five feet away from the box (a few pedestrians later discovered that their electronics were scrambled, although at the time, they were too distracted to notice), but what it did manage to do, since it had been stuck right on top of a control circuit on the base of a signal tower on St. Brighid Bvd., was to short out the power to all traffic signals at St. Brighid and Ilonwy.

The confusion that ensued from the initial failure was impressive, but not disastrous. While St. Brighid Bvd. had four lanes and three tiers of traffic, the speed restrictions in that area kept the skimmer casualties to light grazes and gently bumps.

What did turn out to be disastrous was the cascade of secondary failures that followed the initial short. The backup system for the tower activated as soon as the city’s signal relay detected a fault, but, with the entire control circuit fried, the extra power could not go into the tower. The FCL sensors for the tower had, most unfortunately, also been located in the same control circuit, so the FCL solutions did not activate. The power ended up going back into the city grid, which, unprepared for a surge form that direction, began failing one city block after another.

The media would label the ensuing chaos “Bedlam on St. Brighid” and, later, “The Gridslide.”

The morning after the event, an automated drone sent in to clear away the debris on St. Brighid Bvd. swept up the remains of a tiny, homemade EMP device. It had been knocked off the base of the signal tower in the confusion and subsequently crushed by emergency responders. It was vaporized in a solar disposal unit later that day.

Decades later, the cause of the St. Brighid Bvd. Gridslide would remain unknown.

 

***

 

“You are insane, you know that?” Ben shouted as he followed the city-wrecking, Independence-supporting, transport-captaining psychopath he had somehow been employed by through the pandemonium that had once been an orderly Albion metropolis.

“You wouldn’t be th’ first fancy Core boy t’ say so,” Reynolds replied as they ducked around a skimmer whose emergency landing could almost have been classified a crash.

Above them, the sirens of the emergency vehicles warred with the screams of the hapless bystanders and the screeching of various emergency alerts.

“Okay, _that_ I wasn’t expecting,” Reynolds remarked as yet _another_ block of the city went dark.

“What the _naraka_ did you _do_ ?” Ben demanded, flattening himself against a wall as what looked like a whole Buddha-damned _platoon_ of the World Guard charged by them.

“Nothin’ much,” Reynolds said defensively. “Just a regular old Humpty Dumpty. Ain’t never seen it do nothin’ quite like this before.”

“A _Humpty Dumpty_ ?” Ben yelled. “What in the name of Buddha’s _balls_ is a Humpty Dumpty?”

“Just yer standard low-yield EMP,” Reynolds said, dodging into the service stairwell for the building his shuttle was apparently parked on top of. “S’posed t’ create a mess, give all th’ lawkeepin’ types somethin’ t’ do. All th’ king’s horses and all th’ king’s men, y’ know?”

“All the king’s _horses_ ?” Ben huffed as they started to climb. “It’s like _tā mā de_ Armageddon out there, and you’re talking about _horses_?”

He gestured at the city street below them for emphasis. The stairwell was encased in a column of glass, affording an unimpeded view of the proceedings.

“I’ll own, it usually don’t work quite this well,” Reynolds conceded.

Ben would have liked to continue the conversation, but the stairs were making his ribs hurt so much he was having trouble breathing. Reynolds glanced back, saw his distress, and halted his climb.

“Which side?” he asked calmly, as though dealing with broken ribs were an everyday concern.

Considering that deploying low-yield EMPs in urban centers seemed to be all in a day’s work for him, maybe it was.

“Right side,” Ben said tightly.

Reynolds calmly put Ben’s left arm over his shoulder and started to climb. It still hurt like a demon’s ass, but it was easier.

 _Buddha_ , it had been so long since someone had made his life easier.

It looked like everything was going to be alright for ten minutes or so, until they reached the top of the building and found the big double doors to the pad locked.

“ _Sān tóu mǔ zhū de érzi_ !” [12] Reynolds snarled.

Then, while Ben was still busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that they were going to have to go back _down_ the stairs, Reynolds pushed him back against the glass wall, braced himself, and kicked the doors in.

If it had been a sliding door, or a single door, or a door that opened inward rather than outward, this would never have worked, but it was a double door, and not a terribly well constructed one at that. Despite their impressive thickness and high-tech electronic lock, the doors were actually only as strong as the latching mechanism that held them together, and the latching mechanism… well, it had not been designed with kicking in mind. The doors burst open and, after a brief moment of preening, Reynolds took Ben’s arm again and led them out onto the roof.

“Gorram Core planets,” Reynolds grumbled as they made their way across the smooth, dark slab of the landing pad.

They maneuvered between the rows of sleek parked transports until they came to the scruffiest, homeliest, most battered short-range shuttle Ben had ever seen. Ben pulled up short, staring at the disreputable object in horror. Based on the conversation Reynolds had had over his com before all the excitement began, they were supposed to _break atmosphere_ in this vehicle, a vehicle that didn’t even look like it should start.

“C’mon, now,” Reynolds said, tugging Ben firmly towards the pile of scrap. “No time for sightseein’.”

He punched a code into the panel by the shuttle door and pushed Ben inside unceremoniously when it opened. Ben stumbled into the shuttle and looked around, taking in the empty, dust-filled hold, the much-mended cargo nets and straps, and the open hatch to the small, hopelessly outdated cockpit.

As the door slid shut behind them, Reynolds was already heading for the hatch.

“River!” he said, his voice urgent. “River!”

One of the high-backed pilots’ chairs swung around, revealing the young woman who had been in the courtroom that morning. She looked nothing like the Incognito Princess Ben remembered, however. This… this was a Witchling Child. Her hair had fallen down around her face in hapless tendrils and behind it, her face was pale and ethereal. Her dark eyes were blank, and when she spoke, her voice was distant:

“ _Sex hominibus errata faciens servat post saeculum saeculorum commendant:_

_Id fit privatas utilitates vineam aliis_

_Cura quae non possunt mutari et corrigi;_

_Quia impossibile est quod actum perficere possit;_

_Praeferentiae deponere noluit parva;_

_Neglecto cultu atque animi progressio;_

_Fatigatum cupiebat alios cogere ut faciam vivere et credere._ ” [13]

Based on a brief childhood fascination with Earth-that-was zoology, Ben recognized the language the girl was speaking as Latin, but, since he didn’t remember more than a few dozen words (all of them animal-related), he had no idea what she was saying.

Reynolds knelt on the grimy floor at the witch-girl’s feet and took her tiny white hands in his big, calloused ones.

“River,” he said, his face creased with worry, “C’mon now. Look at me.”

River Reynolds’s huge, blank eyes turned to look at him and her face crumpled.

“Mal,” she whimpered. “I… I looked, I looked into the spiders’ web, and there were so many threads, and I followed them, and— torrent— miser— audacity— more laws…”

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, breathing hard, her breath sobbing in her throat.

“River, darlin’, I cannot be havin’ this from you right now,” Reynolds said, his voice quiet, but firm. “We gotta get off this ball a’ mud, and ain’t nobody but you can dodge th’ radar, understand?”

“ _I dikaiosýni simaínei na noiázetai i dikí tis epicheírisi kai na min enochleí tis anisychíes állon andrón,_ ” [14] River whispered, and this time Ben had no idea what language she was speaking.

“I’m sorry, _wǒ de ài rén_ ,” Reynolds said. “I’m so, so sorry.”

And with that, he stood up and reached for the beat-up first-aid box installed under the flight console. He rummaged around and came out with an unmarked vial and a package of syringes, which he tore open with his teeth. He clumsily filled the syringe, then knelt down again in front of the girl.

“I sure hope you’ll forgive me for this, darlin’,” he said, taking one slender wrist in his hand and pulling her arm out straight.

The girl stared at her own arm uncomprehendingly as the transport captain put the syringe between his teeth and began searching out the vein in the crook of her elbow. Eventually, he seemed to find it, and, to Ben’s shock and horror, took the syringe, injected whatever it contained into his wife’s arm.

River frowned, then her eyes widened and she gave a small cry. Reynolds winced and dropped the empty syringe, gathering the girl into his arms and stroking her hair.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeated over and over again.

They stayed like that for what seemed like a very long time, but finally the girl pulled back. Reynolds brushed her hair out of her face, looking intently into her eyes.

“You with me, little one?” he asked hoarsely.

“The path has narrowed,” River said flatly. “On either side is darkness.”

“I am so sorry, River-girl,” Reynolds said, “But I need you here now, _dong ma?_ ”

“ _Shi shi,_ Captain,” River said, her voice still disturbingly lacking in inflection.

“Can you get us out a’ th’ world?” Reynolds asked.

“Aye, sir,” River said, and turned abruptly to the cockpit controls where she began flicking switches and punching in commands to fire up the shuttle.

Reynolds stood back and ran his hands over his face, clearly upset by what he had just done. Ben limped forward and leaned against the hatch, looking from the captain to his wife and back again.

“What in the name of Enlightenment just happened?” he hissed.

“I just did somethin’ there ain’t no forgivin’,” Reynolds said wearily, “And I hope t’ God she forgives me anyways, ‘cause I don’t rightly know what t’ do if she doesn’t.”

“But… she’s going to _fly_?” Ben said, staring at the girl in the pilot’s chair. “She’s drugged and incoherent and she’s going to fly? Are we making an after-school special here? Or are we trying to depart this painful existence the fast and dirty way?”

Reynolds turned and regarded Ben speculatively.

“I see we got us a comedian this time,” he said as the shuttle lifted off the pad. “Could be worse, I s’pose.”

Then he returned to the first-aid kit and rummaged around some more, coming out with a dubious— and, once again, unlabeled— bottle of tablets.

“Here,” he said, tossing the bottle to Ben, who caught it reflexively. “Leftovers from our last hospital job. This one’s ci-tro-vin-o-phen I think. Or maybe ac-illi-min-o-cain. Any road, it should do th’ trick.”

Ben eyed the bottle and tried to decide which concerned him more: that Reynolds knew the names of both drugs, or that he had to sound them out one syllable at a time.

“Aren’t those both controlled?” he asked.

“Well a’ course,” Reynolds said. “Wouldn’t be much point grabbin’ ‘em otherwise. Take three an’ sit tight ‘til I can take a look at yer ribs. I ain’t no doc, but I can make sure you ain’t about t’ puncture a lung.”

Ben stared at the pills a little more, then sighed, opened the bottle, and downed three of the tablets like the captain had ordered.

It was only after he had dry-swallowed the meds that it occurred to him that three was not the standard dosage for any drug he knew of.

Reynolds’s attention, meanwhile, remained firmly on River. Ben stepped forward and set the pills on the console and joined the captain in studying their pilot.

“Seriously, are we about to die?” he asked. “I mean, I am very grateful for you getting me out of prison, and it seemed like you… knew what you’re doing back there, but _this_ ,” he indicated the tiny girl currently piloting the shuttle while doped up on Buddha-knew-what, “This seems crazy to me.”

“Oh, it surely is,” Reynolds said, never taking his eyes off the girl. “You don’t even know how crazy. But even on her worst day, River is th’ best hope a’ seein’ old age you’ve got. Best you be rememberin’ that, ‘cause there may come a time you have t’ decide whether t’ do what makes sense or do what she tells you.” The captain finally turned to look at Ben. “You _always_ wanna do what she tells you.”

Ben stared at Reynolds, then at River, then at Reynolds again. Meanwhile, River directed the shuttle into a perfect Michengellr Loop, a complicated maneuver that Ben recognized from his work at the Raptor Cage which, when executed correctly, confused ground radar into thinking that something was landing rather than taking off. The fact that this shuttle could even perform it was staggering, as Ben had seen it cause more than one prototype to lose steering capability.

Ben put his hands to his temples and shook his head, not really believing what he was seeing.

“This, this is not happening,” he said.

Reynolds smirked.

“Sit down,” he said, gesturing to the copilot’s chair. “I’ll take a look while th’ Little Albatross flies us off this rock.”

Ben sat, frowning.

“Albatross?” he said.

“‘S a ship’s good luck,” Reynolds said, pushing his jacket briskly off of Ben’s shoulders and pressing his hands gently, but firmly into Ben’s right side. “‘Less you kill one, a’ course. Then they’re th’ worst sort a’ luck you ever did see.”

He came to the first broken rib and Ben let out a grunt.

“Easy there,” Reynolds murmured. “This’n’s just cracked. It’ll hurt, but it won’t kill ya.”

The shuttle began a shallow, zig-zagging ascent. Reynolds moved on to the next rib, which hurt, if possible, more than the first, causing Ben to yelp.

“Ooooh,” Reynolds said. “Yup, ‘at’s broke alright. Seems you’ll be on light duty for a while.”

“ _Zǔzhòu wǒ de mǔqīn_ ,” [15] Ben grated out.

“Don’ worry,” Reynolds said, finishing his examination and standing up. “We got plenty a’ soothers, and two big dumb grunts t’ do th’ heavy liftin’ ‘til yer feelin’ better.”

Ben’s mind was starting to feel fuzzy— from the soothers, he though absently, he _knew_ three wasn’t the right dose— and it was getting harder to control his emotions. Or his mouth.

“I just, I wonder why, you know?” he blurted out. “This isn’t the first time, or the second, or even the fifth. I mean, someone had to have gone out of their way to make sure that every single _nǎinai bèndàn_ [16] in Melis with an anger management problem knew that I was the guy to hit if you wanted to hit someone. Melis is not exactly Dallax 7, _nobody_ gets beat up this much there.”

“I have been given t’ understand that th’ powers that be have an unhealthy interest in you,” Reynolds agreed, leaning against the wall behind River’s chair. “Though I’ll own, I don’t quite conjure where you gettin’ th’ stuffin’ beat out a’ you on a regular basis fits int’ their grand plan.”

“I mean, what did I do to deserve this?” Ben continued. “What is it about me that would get someone to make this happen? I broke the rules, but I’ve been _punished_ for that. I lost my commission, I went to prison. Why wasn’t that _enough_? What makes me so much worse than everybody else? Am I just, I don’t know, a bad person?”

Reynolds was eying him dubiously now.

“O-kay,” he said, “I think them soothers may be workin’ a little bit too well. Ya gotta breath, son, b’fore you pass out.”

“Why?” Ben asked desperately, looking up at Reynolds. “Why me?”

His head was positively spinning now, and his hands felt like they belonged to someone else.

“Well, this is a fine _xiǎobiàn hé lúzhā_ ,” [17] Reynolds muttered. “Just breathe, Ross. You’re fine, ‘s just th’ soothers.”

“You’re nice,” Ben said, his words slurring a little.

“No, I ain’t,” Reynolds said, glowering at him. “I’m a mean old man.”

“It’s been… a long time since anyone’s been nice to me,” Ben said sadly.

“Oh, _qīn'ài de réncí zhī zhǔ_ ,” [18] Reynolds muttered under his breath, “This is gonna be a long flight.” He sighed and said aloud, “Just relax, son. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

 

***

 

As soon as the shuttle docked, Ya’el checked their orbit, flipped on the bridge’s auto-functions, and sprinted for the stairs. She knew, in her head, that Ben was on the shuttle, but a part of her wouldn’t believe it until she saw it with her own eyes. She dived down the stairs and burst out onto the catwalk just as the hatch slid open… only to jerk to a halt, eyes going wide in disbelief. Captain Reynolds was stepping through the hatch with a grimace on his face and a very bruised and battered Ben hanging onto him and singing “Parallax” loudly off-key. River stepped out behind them, looking confused and slightly frustrated. Ben looked up as the shuttle hatch slid shut and stopped dead, eyes widening and mouth falling open comically.

“Skyfall?” he said disbelievingly.

Despite the fact that her friend was injured and… drunk? Drugged? Insane? Ya’el found her mouth pulling into a wide smile.

“Ben,” she said, still grinning madly.

“Skyfall,” Ben said, his voice wobbling.

He looked at Captain Reynolds, who was still holding him up.

“You… you brought me…” he stammered, his words slurring. “You got me out, you brought me to Skyfall, you…”

Ben gulped and blinked furiously, then turned around and clumsily wrapped his arms around the surprised— and, judging by his anxious expression, acutely uncomfortable— captain.

“Thank you,” he choked out, hugging Captain Reynolds fiercely. “Thank you. So. Much…”

And then Ben lifted his head off of the captain’s shoulder, looked him in the eye… and kissed him full on the mouth.

With tongue.

River squeaked. Ya’el froze. Captain Reynolds made a strangled sound, somewhat reminiscent of a stepped-upon cat, but, thankfully, made no move to either punch Ben or drop him.

“Uh… cap’n?” said Jayne’s deep voice from the cargo bay stairs.

Finally— _finally_ — the kiss ended. Ben patted Captain Reynolds’s chest with exaggerated care and turned back to grin dopily at Ya’el. Captain Reynolds shook his head dazedly and looked first at Ya’el, then at River, then at Jayne. Ben, meanwhile, clearly wanted to get to Ya’el, but wasn’t steady enough on his feet to make it on his own, so Captain Reynolds, with another shake of his head, helped him down the catwalk. As soon as he was within lunging distance, Ben slid his arm off of the captain’s neck and half lurched, half fell into Ya’el’s arms. He then proceeded to wrap his arms around her and hang on as though he never meant to let go.

“Skyfall,” he murmured blearily into her neck.

Ya’el hesitantly put her arms around her friend, swallowing back the lump that had somehow formed in her throat.

“Hello, Ben,” she murmured. “I… missed you.”

Ben let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob, and held on tighter.

Captain Reynolds stood where Ben had left him, rubbing his hand over the back of his head.

“This ain’t what it looks like,” he said.

“What _does_ it look like?” River said, her voice calm, her head tilted consideringly to one side. “Does not resemble any common trope or image.”

“Got that right, Crazy Girl,” Jayne said, coming up the stairs the rest of the way and stepping onto the catwalk. “I don’t rightly know what th’ ruttin’ hell I just saw.”

“It were just a couple a’ soothers ‘s all,” Captain Reynolds said defensively. “How was I s’posed t’ know they’d get ‘im high as high noon?”

Jayne’s face cleared, then broke into a wicked smirk.

“How many’d you give’m?” he asked.

“Just three,” Captain Reynolds said.

Jayne burst out laughing and even River smiled.

“Jus’ three, huh?” Jayne said. “Cap’n, most _normal_ folk— meanin’ folk who ain’t _you_ —  only take _one_. You gotta take a whole gorram fistful of ‘em ‘fore anythin’ happens ‘cause yer stubborn as an old mule.”

Captain Reynolds glowered at Jayne. And then, for good measure, he glowered at River and Ya’el. However, in the process of glowering at Ya’el, he appeared to remember that she had 12 stone of very emotional Ben hanging onto her, drugged to the gills and about to pass out.

“Right,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “Skylar, get th’ new recruit t’ his bunk. Careful of his right side, he’s got a few ribs broke.”

“Yes sir,” Ya’el said quickly, already guiding Ben towards the stairs.

“River, c’n you plot us a course?” she heard the captain ask as she started maneuvering him down the steps.

“I look into the amoeba's eye,” River said, “But the amoeba does not know it is looking back.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Captain Reynolds said.

“Cap’n, _what in th’ hell happened down there_?” Jayne demanded.

 

***

 

Mal’s face did that complicated thing it did when the going got tough and he had to make captain-y decisions that he just _knew_ weren’t going to be popular with the troops, but were to his mind the best out of bad options. It was two parts guilt, one part determination, and one part general pissed-off-ed-ness. Sometimes Jayne thought that the pissed-off-ed-ness was directed at the crew (particularly him and Simon) and sometimes he thought it was directed at the universe at large, but either way, it served to shorten his temper significantly.

“Things went sideways,” the captain bit out in response to Jayne’s demand. “I had t’ make a call.”

“T’ get th’ pretty new Core boy so stoned he started kissin’ on your ugly mug?” Jayne said, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. “ _That_ was your call?”

“No, _that_ were a mistake,” Mal said, the muscle in his jaw working, “One I’ll not be repeating, thank you kindly.”

“ _Serenity_ welcomes her new blue-eyed boy,” River remarked, “Gives him luck, creates homogeneity among her favored sons.”

Jayne wasn’t sure exactly what River was talking about— beyond the weird coincidence that all three males currently on board _Serenity_ had blue eyes, that is— but he thought she might mean that the newcomer’s… noteworthy entrance meant that _Serenity’s_ weird-assed luck was already rubbing off on him.

And wasn’t _that_ just shiny?

However, none of this shed any light on why Mal was looking so gorram constipated.

“Acted as medical proxy for his wife when she was incapacitated,” River said cooly, answering the question Jayne was trying to put into words. “Took away her agency, but returned her functionality.” She frowned and shook her head, like she was trying to clear it. “Not his place,” she said, her voice becoming fretful. “Breach of trust—”

She trailed off and Mal flinched.

“ _I promised I wouldn’t take advantage a’ her,_ ” River said in Mal’s accent. “ _Promised I wouldn’t be like those_ húndàns _at th’ Academy, messin’ with her head an’ pumpin’ her full a’ drugs without her leave._ ”

“You gave her somethin’,” Jayne realized, thinking through River’s words and figuring out what must have happened. “You gave her somethin’ so’s she could fly th’ shuttle. And, considerin’ how far she was int’ Crazyville, you couldn’t a’ asked her b’fore you did it.”

Mal hooked his thumbs into his belt and met Jayne’s eyes, face bleak. He didn’t answer, but then, he didn’t need to. The look in his eyes was enough.

“Microscope,” River confirmed.

“Damn,” Jayne said, wincing. “Don’t _that_ suck on the _gāowán_ of th’ gorram ‘verse. You alright, _bǎobèi?_ ”

River wrapped her arms around herself and ducked her head.

“Understand,” she said. “Understand, agree, but… cannot accept. Anger, fear, love…”

“So, you think Mal did right, but yer still angry at him?” Jayne clarified.

River didn’t look up, just nodded.

“Well, that’s okay then,” Jayne said, relieved.

He had been fearing much worse.

Mal’s stony mask cracked and he threw Jayne a disbelieving look. Jayne shrugged.

“She don’t hate you, she don’t think you were wrong, and she still loves you,” he said. “She’s just a little angry is all, and if I know anythin’ about girlfolk, she won’t stay that way long if’n you say you’re sorry and give ‘er her somethin’ pretty. All in all, seems t’ me you made out like a gorram bandit on this one, Mal.”

“Jayne is very wise,” River said looking up with a smile that was only the tiniest bit wobbly.

Mal’s expression— part outrage, part disbelief, and part agonized relief—  was gorram priceless. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so obvious how upset he’d been.

“I’m sorry, _ài rén_ ,” he said. “You’re right, I never wanted t’ take away your choices th’ way they did at th’ Academy, but th’ first sign a trouble, I did it anyways. I give you my word, I’ll never do it again.”

“You will,” River said, her voice suddenly clear and resonant. “Captain’s job. Has to make hard choices, risk hurt to prevent harm.” She looked at Mal, and her chin lifted. “Only you,” she said. “If the decision has to be made, _you_ make it. Nobody else.”

Mal’s shoulders slumped a little, as though sagging under this new responsibility River had placed on him, but he took a deep breath and nodded.

“Alright, Albatross,” he said. “I understand. Only me.”

River regarded him intently for a moment, then smiled and stepped forward lightly, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his shoulder. Mal let out a breath of that was almost a moan and hugged her back, burying his face in her hair. They stayed there for a moment, then, suddenly, River pulled away and looked up at Mal with a particular smile that Jayne had come to know well. It was her mischievous smile, the one that said she was feeling aggrieved and was going to make sure everyone on board knew it, and never mind the rights and wrongs of the matter.

“I’m still mad at you,” she declared.

“Uhoh,” Jayne said.

“ _Lā shǐ_ ,” Mal said at the exact same time.

"Cap'n," Jayne said out of the corner of his mouth, keeping a wary eye on River, "You better be findin' that 'somethin' pretty' right ruttin' quick or we're humped."

"Reckon you may be right," Mal said slowly.

River continued to smile.

 

 

 

[1] Diva (male), Core colloquialism (literally “protagonist”)

[2] Buddha's navel

[3] Sweet fuck

[4] From  _Serenity_

[5] From William Shakespeare’s _Richard III,_ Act IV, Scene 3

[6] Fuck a drunken rubber duck

[7] Granny-selling

[8] Fuck a nematode sideways

[9] Hell realm (Buddhism)

[10] Son of a demon

[11] Long Legs

[12] Son of a thrice-dishonored sow

[13] Latin quote attributed to Cicero:

Six mistakes mankind keeps making century after century:

Believing that personal gain is made by crushing others;

Worrying about things that cannot be changed or corrected;

Insisting that a thing is impossible because we cannot accomplish it;

Refusing to set aside trivial preferences;

Neglecting development and refinement of the mind;

Attempting to compel others to believe and live as we do.

_Note: Judging by the imperfections in the Latin grammar, the quote was probably translated back into Latin (perhaps after passing through several other languages) by an inexpert translator or an inferior translation program._

[14] “Justice means minding one's own business and not meddling with other men's concerns.” — Plato (Greek)

[15] Curse my mother

[16] Grandmother fucker

[17] Pot of piss and slag

[18] Dear Lord of mercy

 

**Author's Note:**

> For the most part, the Chinese is the work of Google Translate, except in cases where a phrase is so common in the Firefly Fandom repertoire that to use an alternative would be jarring.


End file.
